


Stranger Roads Have Been Walked

by Abby_Ebon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: College, M/M, Multi, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-10
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-09 13:51:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abby_Ebon/pseuds/Abby_Ebon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HarryPotter&Supernatural. Slash. Wincest. In Stanford, Harry found Jess and Sam, what would the Winchester adventure been like if there had been a tag along war-torn wizard seeking revenge right along beside them? Challenge from queen ares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Line Drawn

The magical folk at Stanford were a tight bunch, overprotective of their own, and leery of those who weren't witches or wizards taking an interest in their peers. It was what set Jessica apart from the magical crowd, what drew Harry to her. She was pretty enough, but Harry didn't think of her as a potential wife or girlfriend, merely a friend who took a broad view of the world and befriended normal and magical alike.

They had met on Harry's first day of collage, as a manner of fact. Jess was merely walking to her dorm when an over-book-burdened Harry Potter trampled into her. One ripped map, several muddied books, and many apologies later, Jess was guiding the gawky and spectacled youth to the boys dorm.

"You really don't have to do this…" Harry trailed off as the blond threw him an amused glance over her shoulder and continued on. Her stride was long legged and brisk and Harry had enough trouble just keeping up with her let alone talking at the same time.

"So, where are you from?" Jess questioned him as she opened the door for him. He tried to protest this, but Jess merely gave his book filled arms a pointed look and ignored the boys who smirked or snickered at the roll reversal.

"Europe," Harry answered shortly, looking doubtfully up the staircase Jess had climbed up without hesitation. Hesitantly, wary of his books, he started up after her. Jess was tapping her foot at the top of the staircase, clearly awaiting more of an answer then the obvious one.

"Moved around lot, so really don't call anywhere over there home," Harry offered, and Jess merely shrugged and continued on her way expecting to be followed unquestioningly.

Harry wasn't one to disillusion her, as he was without a map or a dorm number. Maybe she knew some of the boys here and he could dorm-up with them for the night before settling things with the administration in the morning.

"So what are you doing over here?" Jess asked, pausing as they waited for a student to push his bags into his room. The hall was crowded and hardly had room for three people to walk side-by-side let alone the two of them mixed in with the many moving in and outs of the boys dorm.

"Just going to college, like anyone else, I suppose… somewhat of a vacation I guess," Harry allowed of himself, and when Jess threw him a raised eyebrow at the "vacation" comment, he only smiled and moved on as the student waved them on. A muttered 'thanks for waiting' could barely be heard over the chatter of the others.

"You must be rich to consider this vacation," Jess teased and Harry flushed. Informing her of his estates, wealth, and titles was the last thing he was going to do. Jess didn't notice his lapse, only laughing good naturedly at his flushed cheeks.

"Ah, here we are." Harry really didn't see anything spectacular about the dorm door. It was shining wood just like all the others in the overcrowded hall. Jess rapped twice on the door and it swung open in a rush revealing a young man likely a little older then he was. His dark gaze lightened upon setting sights on Jess lips formed a smile that took Harry's breath away.

He wasn't anything spectacularly impressive at first sight with a slender frame wrapped with wiry muscle and a sort-of bookish-dork look to him – though Harry wasn't one to point fingers as he looked about the same – but there was something about him – a danger – that whispered to Harry of 'could bes' and 'what ifs' in the shadows of his mind.

"Jess, just who I wanted to see…" The man spoke, and Jess flushed prettily, glancing aside and his attention came upon Harry. The brown gaze took him in, top from bottom, and a small confused welcoming smile curled his lips.

"Harry – this is Sam Winchester. Sam, love, this is Harry Potter, it's his first day and he hasn't been assigned a dorm yet. I'd hoped that you might have room to spare for him, else I think he'll be lost in the crowd we have here," Jess explained as Sam stepped aside letting her and Harry into the clean dorm room. The door closed and it was blessedly quieter then the chatter and noise of the hall outside.

"I don't think it should be a problem – that all you have Harry?" Sam asked with a polite nod to his backpack. Feeling he likely looked on the scruffy side, Harry only nodded. It was hard for him to believe that just a month ago he'd been wandering the countryside desperate to find bits of a Dark Lord's soul that were stuffed into inanimate objects. To try to explain to a stranger that all that he owed and cared about was in a ratty knapsack would be impossible to consider.

"Yeah, all I brought with me…" Harry trailed off at the looks of bemusement the two traded. He hadn't been sure before but he was now. They were most assuredly together. Boyfriend and girlfriend, perhaps even something closer.

"You sure travel light. What classes do you have in the morning?" Jess asked him, as it seemed the two of them were taking turns at interrogating him. A somewhat amused Harry almost answered "Muggle Mythology" but stopped just in time.

"Mythology...it's a kind of a hobby," Harry told them. Sam shrugged a shoulder, through there was a look that said he didn't think it was 'just' a hobby that made Harry nervous and wonder why he had left his wand in his backpack. But Sam only pointed to the bed and rather empty looking other half of the room.

"Well, sounds interesting. You can stay if you like, but if they have a different place for you in the morning you should go there. I like my space," Sam said moving away to his side of the room. Jess looked after him, her lips pressed together – it showed that she was clearly upset. Not wanting to be the one to cause a rift between the two, Harry started to stammer out his thanks.

"Sam! I can't believe your manners. Harry, I apologize for dragging you in here…" Jess spoke out before he could though, and Harry felt awkward. He sighed though and shrugged a shoulder attempting to give her a reassuring look.

"It's alright, you really have helped – I appreciate it, really – and I'll try to stay out of your hair, Sam. I know this is all rather abrupt and everything…" Harry said haltingly, feeling as if the words coming out of his mouth weren't the right ones.

"No, it's not that your not welcome here, it's just…I…I don't really like sharing a room," Sam told him softly. Harry could only nod in a way he hoped was understanding though he didn't really understand at all having spent most of school year in a dorm room with four other boys, and when he was ten and sleeping under the cupboard under the stairs had echoed with his relatives' snores and the creeks and groans of the house.

"It's alright Sam – don't worry about it," Harry assured him, awkwardly sitting on the too firm mattress.

"Well, I'm hungry, it's nearly lunch. Want to go with me to the cafeteria Sam?" Jess asked. Harry couldn't help but hide a smile as he realized she needn't have bothered. It was far more like a demand than a question.

"S-sure," Sam said haltingly, clearly knowing from her tone that it was no real question at all. When the door shut, the last thing Harry saw was Jess give a small smile to him and Sam look remarkably like he was trying to get out of the situation he had dug himself into. Harry wished him luck. Jess was surely more than capable of telling him exactly what it was he had done.

Harry smoothed his fingers over the sheets of the mattress, deciding he preferred a softer one and reached into his backpack to fetch his wand. Tapping it against the mattress and sighing, he lay down and curled onto his side, pack hugged to his chest, and wand tucked behind his ear.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"I can't believe you," Jess stated once they were out of the dorm and away from prying ears. Sam gave a soft snort, and Jess, without any hesitation whatsoever, reached up and wacked him on the back of the head.

"That poor boy has barely been here a day and you're treating him as if he has some disease," Jess hissed at him with narrowed eyes as Sam rubbed the back of his head – not because it hurt, but because he knew he couldn't begin to explain to Jess what the real problem was. That ever since he was little he'd only shared a room with Dean, who protected him and associated that protection with the person who shared a room with him.

He didn't know Harry at all. Yet subconsciously, he knew he would seek the kid out if the monsters moved as shadows in the dark. That was a burden he knew no one but another hunter should be given. Yet Sam had little choice. He trusted those who slept in the same room as him – to guard his back, as he did with Jess. It was something that was subconscious and he had no control over the impulse for all that he was working to do so.

"It's nothing personal, Jess. He's welcome to stay the night, I just…just like my space." Sam tried to reason, but Jess' lips quirked and he sighed, knowing she found that excuse pathetic.

"You are such a liar Sam. You'd cuddle and drool on anything in your sleep," Jess told him fondly, and he couldn't be angry or frustrated at her when she had that tone of voice so Sam did the only thing he could do. He ran a hand through his hair and gave her his best kicked puppy look. She rolled her eyes, but he knew when the tenseness left her shoulders that she would leave it alone – for now.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Isn't he just adorable?" Jess whispered to Sam, poking her boyfriend when he made no reply. Sam was staring down at Harry as if he'd never seen him. Jess had to admit Harry looked peaceful in his sleep. As if he didn't carry such metaphysical weight of magic or maturity as she had witnessed in the short amount of time she had known him in. She was now determined to find out all he was willing to tell about himself.

Harry's black fringe hid his faded lightning-bolt scar. His skin was otherwise tanned and, though he would always be smaller in height and muscle mass to other males, he had grown into his limbs, which was a blessing in and of itself, she knew.

She was American, but magical folk all over were a tight bunch. She knew well who Harry Potter was – savior, hero – but she realized then and there that she did not know the person behind all the media. He was such a kindred spirit – much like her Sam.

"Yeah..." Sam murmured weakly, pulling his eyes away from the stick that had to be as long as Harry's forearm, tucked behind his ear. Sam had such an odd look on his face after seeing it as if it disturbed some greater whole of him.

Jess fixed her eyes on the wand – knowing it for what it was – and realized why it had disturbed Sam so much. She waited until he was turned away from her before pulling her own wand out from her holster on her back.

"Sorry, Sam…" Jess murmured softly, before flicking her wand. Sam fell onto his bed limply, and then in a smooth motion, took the moment of seeing the wand for what it was from his memory. Whenever he saw it now, Sam would think it to be a ridiculously long pen that was important to Harry, so mustn't be thrown away.

Gently, Jess arranged him on the bed so he would be more comfortable. She knew the spell would last until morning and put one on Harry for good measure as she knew he would need it. With a sigh and a fond shake of her head, she took the wand from Harry's ear, and tucked it into his backpack.

Then she left them, casting a silencing spell on her way out so that the noise of the others would not disturb them.


	2. Temptation Between Times

Jess came into her dorm. She shared it with her roommate - and a number of other girls she had yet to meet and had no intention of memorizing the names of - though, to her, it was still somehow hers.

She pulled her keys from her sweater pocket and the door swung open. First day was always the most exhausting and most of the students who knew what they were in for took a noon time nap – or at least knew to keep the noise down.

Her roommate was, thankfully, not around because Jess had a lot to think over and most assuredly did not need another witch preaching at her about "keeping relationships within the ranks" so to speak.

She kept the lights off, turned on some soft music, closed the curtains and with a contented sigh collapsed onto the bed.

She pulled extra her pillow against her side in a poor imitation of Sam, and the second went under her head. She did not have to wait long before falling into sleep.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Harry was sobbing, babbling haltingly about something she could not hear. Her heart lurched at the sight and something within her twisted in an ache to fix this – for it was not right, was not the way it was supposed to be.

Harry was not alone, Sam stood there, looking down at him as if he did not want to believe whatever it was she could not hear. His knuckles turned white from being clenched so hard and he turned his face away.

Another man, one she had not seen before, came up beside Sam. There was regret on his face, but solemn acceptance.

He put his hand on Sam's shoulder, and Jess could lip read the "I'm sorry" he spoke as if it wasn't already written across his features. There was a gun in the halter around his waist.

Sam did not face either of them, and Harry shivered the darkness – for it was night, Jess realized – seeming to gather around him, bidding it's time, feasting on his sorrow.

Sam shook his head, and Jess did not know why. He knelt beside Harry and pulled the younger man into his arms. Jess was not surprised that they fit together so well.

Harry spoke and Jess made out "forgive me" and wondered why it seemed like such a huge question. Sam only held him tighter, sharing their sorrow. Jess began to feel a sense of 'rightness' about the scene but it disturbed her as well, because she did not like not knowing what could affect both of them so.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Disturbed from sleep, Jess blinked her eyes open. For a moment she wondered how it was that she could do this, but the feeling faded to the background when she spotted her roommate walking into the room trying, and failing to be silent.

With a grunt of acknowledgement, she rolled over curling around the pillow at her side, wishing she was in Sam's embrace.

While the dream – was it a dream…? Or perhaps it was a warning of things to come? – had disturbed her, nonetheless, she was determined to get all the sleep she could, as true night had finally fallen.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Jess remembered one more dream in the morning, though she wasn't sure she was as 'part of it' as her last. It had the pleasantly fuzziness of memory mixed with fantasy – or so she told herself.

The sun was setting, and Sam and she were curled together on the couch, watching some show she wasn't really paying attention to.

Sam was much more interesting – he wore no shirt, though he had his jeans on. She was pressed up against his chest, wearing his tank top and it was riding up as he played his fingers along the sensitive skin of her sides.

She wore the shorts that were as good as underwear to bed. And though he kissed her and touched her, there was nothing to stop them from coupling; still, they waited – breathless – for something or someone to join them.

The scene in the dream changed, as such things would do without preamble, and instead of the couch in a living room in front of a TV, they were in the bedroom with soft music playing through the open door.

For a moment she wondered why the door was open, but then Harry stepped into the bedroom wearing boxers and nothing else and she realized what it was she and Sam were waiting for. Harry.

Green eyes danced with mirth and Harry came closer to the bed, teasing them with his golden skin and body so close yet still untouchable. He gestured them closer, a teasing grin lighting his features.

Sam and she exchanged a look, and then together pounced. So it was that Harry found his waist straddled by Sam and his hands and arms held down by none other then Jess.

Harry laughed, though there was no sound. Then Sam kissed him, boldly, wet tongues wrestling together within the warm caverns of their mouths.

Sam looked up at her. His eyes were black, and there was nothing human in those eyes, nothing of her Sam. She remembered screaming as she fell onto the floor, trying to get away.

Sam had been confused, trying to sooth her with gesture and word, while Harry had clearly been the more worried one – trying to approach her, question her – but she couldn't stop screaming and crying and Sam would not let him near her, fear of her – fear for Harry's sake. It was all so mixed across Sam's face like a painting.

By the time Jess realized that there was nothing wrong with this Sam – at least not yet – it was too late. In a burst of power that was not exactly magic as she knew it – but still power – Harry's wand broke, shattering and she was sliding up the wall, as the force of power lifted her.

Sam – _her_ Sam – was screaming on the floor, as tears of blood ran down his cheeks. But ...it was Harry who worried her most.

He just stared blankly ahead, watching it all, as if already dead on the inside. His lips formed words she could hear.

"…I…killed you…"

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

 _But that's wrong…Harry, you didn't kill me_ _. S_ _omething…something else did…and it's hurting Sam_ …Jess blinked back tears as she woke and took a shuddering breath. She felt like crying, but piece by piece she put herself back together. She wasn't sure for a moment who she was or where, but she sat up in bed and her feet and legs where tangled in the sheets almost as if she had been fighting the inevitable.

 _Just a crazy ass dream_ … Jess told herself firmly as she glanced to the clock, only to see it was twelve at night, but she had a feeling that if she dared to go back to sleep she would see something else, only worse.

Something that in all likelihood, would break her heart bit by bit.

Legs finally free of her bedding, she resolved to try to do something productive, and getting out of bed only resulted in her being shocked awake by her feet meeting cold tile floors. _Damn-it_ _,_ _should have set the rug by the bed before I went to sleep_.

Jess scolded herself. It was such a small thing, but it was far better to be distracted by it then to linger on her disturbing dreams. Her feet took her to the bathroom, and she decided a shower, a bit of water splashed on her face, was not such a bad idea after all.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Sam lay awake, suddenly and unexplainably tensed, and ready to fight what monsters lingered in the shadows of his dorm room. At first he was not sure what had woken him, and began to relax, thinking it had only been a dream that had disturbed him.

Then he heard it, a muted whimper. It was as good or better then an insistent demand for help to his already raw nerves He sat up, searching the room for the source. It came from a messy head of black hair tucked beneath a blanket.

 _Jess' doing_ …Sam thought, not quite sure if he were ready to tackle that set of issues so early in the morning. Jess had brought the boy to him as if he were an ill treated stray she wanted them to keep. The thought twitched his lips in amusement.

Then the whimper came again accompanied by a small groan of a pained soul. Sam shoved aside his issues; there was no reason not to at least wake the kid up from a nightmare.

Especially one of _that_ sort, Sam thought as he shuffled close enough to glimpse the boy's expression twisted into a sort of agony that would inspire kindness in even the most hardened souls.

"Harry…" Sam grumbled, reaching out a hand to rest on the boys shoulders, to shake him awake. It was the briefest of touches, but Harry had stilled. As if reassured by touch alone, his expression grew peaceful, content.

Sam stood in awe for a few moments, merely staring down at the boy transfixed by the sight of the peaceful child that had replaced the one so deeply entrenched in a nightmare only moments before, not quite sure what had happened, but aware that something had his fingers flexed as he drew them away.

He managed to walk backward a few steps, then the muted mewl came again, bringing Sam to a realization. Harry was comfortable in deep sleep only while being touched by another or in another's presence.

Sam's cheeks flushed, he went foreword only close enough to brush the boy's hair off his sweaty face, and the peacefulness returned to his features. It had been a test but it had proved Sam's theory right.

Which brought a nagging problem on the heels of thought. How was Sam to have a guilty free conscious… and Harry to have sleep?

There was the obvious answer – to crawl in bed beside him – but Sam had only done such a thing with Jess, and Dean when his nightmares had been bad.

Unaware, Sam's hand had fallen to his side and Harry shuddered as if about to cry, and Sam's resolve hardened all on its own. He was not about to let someone suffer in nightmares when he could help just by holding their hand.

Without thinking too hard about his reasons for doing so, Sam climbed into the bed, letting his hand touch Harry's wrist, just to assure him there was someone in the darkness with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad this has had such a positive reception; I hope you all have enjoyed the second chapter, yes, Jess will die – though the question you should be asking is more along the lines of "is she going to stay dead?". I'd love to learn how you think things will be changing because of Harry, this may linger along the root of "finding John", but it'll twist to bite like a desert rattlesnake when they find what demons fear – and when Sam and Dean find out they've been sleeping with one of the monsters, according to daddy dearest.
> 
> Trickster 'gods' will be playing a bigger role, and we'll find out why it is the magical world is ignorant to the monsters. If I ever get to that point, you'll learn what Harry intends to do about that too. That's my entire plot in a nut shell, and yes – it's about as vague as that too.
> 
> So you see; I really do want your opinions before I start out on a quest that'll shake the real world into the reality of monsters and magic, and wake the magical world to the joys of what is left of humanity. That sounds rather doomsday, doesn't it?
> 
> …I really ought to go and fetch this bunny and question it, but… I don't want to – as vague as this story is; to me, it feels…fun, to write. Or, at least, a challenge; this is why I took on the task of writing it, after all. Yes, I do indeed have an odd idea of what "fun" is.
> 
> All bidding on the question, of course, of how will Harry react to finding himself entangled in bed with Sam?


	3. Twisting Paths

Harry snuggled closer to the warmth beneath his cheek, hoping it would lull him back into the safety he had felt in sleep. Harry opened his eyes. His vision had always been blurry to nearly impossible to see something without it being fuzzy around the edges. Except when something was _really_ close up and Sam was _really_ close up, in person, though somehow still asleep.

Sam's fingers were tangled up in his hair, in a grip that could almost be called possessive. It made Harry feel safe – cared for. His cheek –as well as the rest of the whole side of his face - was pressed up against Sam's chest. If Harry closed his eyes and listened he could hear that heart beat – soothing, steady. Like Sam would always be there.

Somehow their legs had gotten tangled up together with Sam's thigh wedged between Harry's own legs, and his knee hooked around Sam's leg. It was a mess, and Harry didn't have the faintest idea at how to go about unraveling himself without Sam taking notice and waking up – possibly at the worst possible time. They were holding hands, Harry realized in the next moment while he was figuring out which limb belonged to whom. Harry's other hand had a grip on Sam's shirt.

Harry couldn't imagine a more embarrassing though strangely comforting moment in his life. Then, of course, Sam woke up.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

It took Sam a moment to realize the wary green eyes looking up into his own were not Jess'. That the body tangled with his own was male, that his fingers were tangled in familiar messy hair. It had been _his_ idea to climb into Harry's bed and in this moment it didn't seem to matter that it had been to maintain physical contact so the other wouldn't have nightmares.

"You know," Sam began while Harry stilled, seeming to fear what would happen next, "it's a very good thing Jess isn't here to blackmail us with a camera and pictures." His musing had the desired effect. Harry chuckled, relaxing against him.

It was then that Sam felt his thigh smugly between Harry's legs. The heat and feel of his groin…Of course, Harry was young, and it was a natural response. Sam looked aside, breathing shallowly as he tried to think of how to disentangle them with the minimal embarrassment, because Sam knew it was only a matter of time before he became affected by Harry's presence as well… if he wasn't already.

"How…why…" Harry trailed off, not meeting his eyes. Despite that, Sam knew what he was asking.

"You were having…night terrors. You seemed to need…" _Me_. Sam trailed off before he said that, and Harry met his eyes then. Something passed between them, and Sam knew that it was acknowledgment – and reassurance. Sam wouldn't tell of Harry's weakness, not even to Jess if he could help it.

"Yeah…" Harry murmured softly, seeming to be thinking of a different time and place. Perhaps that, Sam mused, was the reason he had such nightmares. Whatever had happened, had changed something, and Sam couldn't help but wonder what that was. He wasn't paranoid about it being monsters or something supernatural. He knew better, people often did worse things to each other than mere killing or haunting.

"How long have you…?" Sam asked as he untangled his fingers from messy black hair and both of them untangled their legs. For some reason that neither of them spoke of, they untangled their fingers last.

"Since before I was a teenager," Harry admitted, acknowledging the truth of it in that moment. Harry knew he'd never slept well, even before finding out he was a wizard. Even after. He just hadn't known it was nightmares.

"I'd rather not …talk…about it," Harry continued before Sam could think to ask. It was the first day of classes; and he didn't need to be worrying about what Sam thought throughout all of them. Sam only nodded, throwing Harry's bag to him as he shuffled to the dresser and pulled out his own clothes from it. As he dressed, Sam wondered if Jess would have better luck pulling what had happened in Harry's past from him.

Before Harry left for the day, he made sure the other boy had his and Jess' cell phone number just in case he got lost, or needed one of them.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"I'm so sorry Mr. Potter. It does show you were registered, but I'm afraid when you didn't show up yesterday to claim the room, we thought you'd found somewhere else or had decided not to come all this way…" The receptionist's features clearly showed what she thought of his sanity at having gone from Europe to America for his education.

"So…there isn't anything at all available?" Harry asked, unable to keep some of his doubt from his tone. The receptionist's fingers danced across the keyboard, though her frown lingered. If it was because she was displeased at being disturbed by him, or that they had been wrong to give away his room, Harry didn't want to think on it.

"Not this semester. Though your schedule is still clear, if you can find a place in the dorms, please alert us to the room number and we'll assign it to you until something becomes available," She mused doubtfully. It was clear she expected him to pack up and leave, if only to make her life easier. Harry tried not to snarl.

"In next semester – spring, I believe – will there be any apartments available?" He had learned that it never hurt to ask. Scowling at the screen – or rather, Harry suspected, at the fact she had made such a poor choice of career – her answer was dry and rather sarcastic.

"Yes. One loft, two bedrooms – and one loft with one bedroom." Harry tapped his fingers along his pocket, resisting the urge to fry the computer with magic. With his luck it would be a school system wide crash instead.

"I'll take the loft with one bedroom," Harry murmured darkly, wondering what her response would be to such a statement. A raised eyebrow showed her doubt at his ability to pay rent and go to school. Harry counted slowly to ten in his head. It didn't help much.

"Could you please reserve it for me?" Harry asked slowly, as if he thought her an idiot. Her lips pressed into a thin line. They were clearly getting on each other's last nerve. Harry knew he should cut her some slack, but it wasn't going to get any better for whoever came after him later in the day.

"Of course, please be aware there is a penalty payment if you do not release your reservations one week before you're scheduled to move in." Harry wasn't surprised. After signing a "reserve" form, and an acknowledgment of penalty form – though still more forms than he wanted to remember in the next day – he received his copies of said forms. Only then did the receptionist ask the dorm room he would be staying at in the meantime.

He took a shaky breath, and wrote in Sam's room number, knowing the other boy wouldn't be pleased by the development. He only hoped he could explain to the other's satisfaction, with the promise of being gone by spring.

Harry was also glad his first class wasn't until this afternoon.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"We might have a problem," Harry announced, settling down beside Jess and Sam for lunch. It had been Jess who led him to this table, but he knew at a glance that it was Sam who hadn't wanted to hear those words come out of his mouth. Harry glanced away from both of them, after the rush in the office this morning, he'd forgotten what – or rather who – he'd woken up to.

"Oh?" Jess asked, moving her fork about to swirl her veggies, glancing to Sam and then to Harry, knowing that something had happened between the two though unable to put her finger on just what.

"Yeah, spoke with the office receptionist this morning…." Harry began, trailing off awkwardly. His eyes glancing down to the bit of food on his plate that looked oddly like pudding though with the "wiggle" of jello.

"Ms Hitch, the office bitch?" Jess asked, interrupting for amusements sake. Perhaps she did not have the best of timing, because Sam had been drinking some juice at the same time and snorted it up, burning his throat and nostrils on the way up. He coughed, giving an unfeasible look to Jess. She hardly ever cursed, and when she did, it somehow always managed to surprise him.

"That might be the one," Harry mused, his accent pulling at things Sam didn't want to linger upon.

"Anyway… I've got no dorm room reserved, so…I, uh, was hoping…" Harry trailed off, carefully not looking to Sam. He knew the other boy would put the pieces together for himself.

"Of course you can stay with Sam, he _loves_ you – don't you _Sam_?" Jess' expression was somehow pleasantly threatening. Sam gave a shrug and exchanged an easy smile with Harry. He knew he had to face facts and that was Harry wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"Yeah, that's…great," Sam muttered softly, rolling his eyes heavenward as Jess jabbed him in the side.

"Well, thanks, but don't worry…it'll only be till spring." Harry promised licking his lips from the leftover cookie crumbs. Sam was careful not to stare when he looked up to nod in acknowledgment.

Sam didn't mention to either of them that Jess looked relieved at his easy agreement, or that she seemed almost to jump at shadows, only to look reassuringly for Sam and Harry. He had a feeling that Harry hadn't been the only one to have nightmares last night.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Jess," Sam called her attention back to the homework they were working together on in his room for what felt like the umpteenth time, "is there anything wrong?" He asked to finish, knowing he didn't have much time before Harry came back to the dorms from class and wanted to get this over with before then. Harry was a great friend to Jess he was sure, but some things were personal.

"No, nothing…I'm fine." It was a lie, and they both knew it. Mostly because Jess had started to sniffle back tears. Sam gathered her to his chest, soothingly brushing his fingers through her hair.

"This isn't after first-day of school shakes," Sam stated, knowing that much at least was the truth. Jess snuggled against him, tucking her feet beneath her so she could curl around him and his lap.

"Could be…." Jess shivered in his arms, tucking her face against the corner of his arm, letting his shirt become damp with her tears. She couldn't help herself. She'd been strong since waking up. She was tried and frayed – and she knew it. Sam wouldn't make fun of her fears, would protect her. He was her rock…

"I don't think that's it…please, Jess, _please_ tell me what's the matter so I can fix it?" Sam asked of her, hating to see her like this – helpless in the face of her tears. All he could do was be there for her. As she told him, there wasn't anything else he could do. Not all the monsters that haunted humans could be "taken care" of; he'd learned that early in life.

"It's…it's this stupid dream I had, well – two of them really. About you, about Harry…" Jess began shakily, sorting out her feelings and impressions of the dreams for the first time while she told them to her beloved. Throughout her explanation Sam remained silent, letting her get it out, soothing her in little ways. A kiss on the forehead or cheek, his grip tightening around her protectively, a touch. It was all she needed, but it had meant so much to her at the same time.

That was how Harry found them, cuddling together on the beds that Sam and Jess had pulled together to make more comfortable. Harry knew he should have closed the door and left to let the couple have their time together. But before he could, Jess spotted him and smiled in such a way that Harry thought that the tears and rumpled clothes made her look all the more enchanting. She motioned him to come further into the room, and when Harry glanced to Sam for confirmation, Sam only nodded with a half smile.

Hesitantly, Harry made his way over to them. It shocked him some that Sam and Jess hugged him in welcome. While he sat there a bit confused, though willing to hug her back, Jess muttered the dreams she had had and Harry could only rub her back soothingly, hoping that in some way it helped. With homework and knapsacks forgotten on the floor, they curled about each other like puppies, talking late into the night about things that happened in the light of day. It wasn't really a surprise to any of the three that they fell asleep that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a idea, since this is already in the direction of Sam/Harry/Jess, I'm wondering if anyone would like me to continue on this line until Dean comes in the spring, or skip ahead till at that point.
> 
> It would have them be confronted with the magical community, who are displeased with them having a relationship with Sam. Maybe some other things, like a haunted dorm, or the Trickster arriving on the scene early. Or questions answered to who those other students were to Sam and Jess. I think this option mostly unfurled because of my blooming like of Jess, who I hadn't considered such a big character in their lives until I started writing her.
> 
> So I suppose its time for a vote – 1) who wants the story to continue at this pace - or 2) who wants to skip ahead to when Dean gets here.


	4. Where Some Fear To Tread

"As you can see…we have a problem." The lights were dim, but even so they could see the image reflected from the shimmering bowl. It was of two young men, and a young witch – Jess, as she was known among them. One of the young men was suspected of being a wizard, but that still put in question with the fact that the other was known not to be a wizard.

"But, the boy, he's from Europe. They have stricter laws of non-magical and magical interaction then we do. I don't understand why he would do this…" It wasn't a question, was not a statement, but it did linger as a doubt would in their minds. The young woman who had gathered them together pressed her lips into a thin line at the interruption. She was dressed professionally, as if caught preparing for a business interview.

"You don't have to understand it, to see where this is going," She stated in soft tones, amused, though harsh. The others stirred, glancing to one another in worry, murmuring and whispering to each other within their own minds. It felt like thousands of little bees buzzing about at the edge of your senses. Another girl, this one dressed in lighter colors of cream half-pants and half-shorts and a blue shirt, stirred a dipped finger into the shimmering water.

"I see where you are going with this, Jaz'. As we all know, it has long been a concern that the magical population wouldn't keep itself in check, so pocket coven groups –such as ourselves – sprang up to take the place of law enforcers. So, as if to keep our little gangs in check, we became aware of hunters – killing those who killed the innocent and victims of magic gone astray. You must know that we had little knowledge of such things before we grouped up. Perhaps we sprang up with merely the intent to watch and warn, but if we act, we will attract hunters." Images sprang from the bowl, of witches and wizards gathering, being lured by magic and its power to perform tasks no one of them could do alone. Magic, they knew, was power. And power corrupted or empowered – or both.

"You are far too paranoid. Taking care of our own and their…mistakes…will not likely attract hunters. It never has before, only if we harm an innocent." Her annoyance with the one who had spoken against her was thick goading the other to speak again, and this time as a fool. The reaction of the other, instead, surprised her.

"What is this young man, then, if not an innocent?" Images shimmered over the bowl, this time of the young man – Sam as they knew his name to be – gathered in the bowl was image, after image, of him studying, learning, and being polite to others, befriending those who had thought him strange and isolated. Even sharing his dorm room with another who had no place else to go. Never had he raised his hand against another Never had he used the weapons they knew he carried.

"What are you saying then, that we should stand by and let her mistake spread like the disease we know it to be?" The words were hissed from behind clenched teeth, but the other girl only glanced at the bowl, and looked back to the others her eyes wide with suggestion.

"Why not do as we claimed we would – watch them, and warn these two we think to be like us…?" The muttering and whispers became nearly words spoken aloud in the silence that followed this suggestion. A hand was waved, and silence met it.

"Very well, for whatever good you think it will do – you may warn them." Dark eyes met hazel, and a smile tugged reluctantly at her arguers' lips.

"I shall, then. You haven't changed, Jaz'." The parting words were soft, understanding and proud. The door clicked closed, and the others turned to her, waiting, expecting She smiled and it was not a pleasant expression. Her hand waved over the bowl. It showed then an image of the three nestled in bed together, like puppies, stirring now in the light of day.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Harry woke slowly, feeling and knowing he was safe, though – unsurprisingly – trapped. On one side, Jess was wedged against him, and he was glad for the fact they were wearing clothes, though they did little to cover the fact that Jess was pressed snuggly against his back. His face flushed when he realized her arms were wrapped around him and Sam – on his other side – held both of them in the same way Jess did.

It was then that it happened. By accident, his first kiss. Sam kissed him lightly on the lips. The feeling sending pleasant sparks along his spine, tightening his chest as his emotions swirled about in chaos.

Then it was over.

Harry was left, dazed and blinking, as Sam jerked back his eyes opening, startled to find, not Jess, but Harry beside him. He only had to glance beside Harry to know that Jess was near, and because Harry had tensed up so, she had woken. How Harry knew she was awake was that he felt her go suddenly rigged.

"…Sam?" Harry would have given anything to be able to fly away just then. Though, he reasoned as significant glances were exchanged between the couple, he'd first have to untangle himself from them, which was easier said than done.

"Jess… I …didn't, it's not like…please, Jess, let me explain?" Harry wondered how it was that Jess had escaped from the not so cuddly tangle so easily, but didn't speak, drawing back from both of them as Jess crawled away and Sam went after her. Harry thought he might have gone after both of them, if he hadn't felt as if he was a tangled knot of guilty feelings and of thrills and chills.

"Sam, I get it, alright – just, leave it alone right now, okay? I _understand_ … I just need some time alone to work out what I feel. Okay?" Jess closed the bathroom door in Sam's face, before he could get a word in edgewise. They both heard the lock click into place like a judgment hammer. Then the shower started.

Harry didn't think he'd ever felt so awkward before in his life.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Sam could admit it when he was freaking out. Now was likely a very good example of that. He _knew_ Jess was upset, she'd just seen him kiss another person, a guy at that. What was worse, in Sam's mind, she had seen him kiss another guy and know what he was doing – enough to enjoy it, even.

The morning kiss was something he had shared with Jess since they had gotten together. It was special in that way, because it was one of those couple things – _their_ couple thing. Touching his lips to another's had been instinct, but he had known it was someone else when he had felt that mouth pretend dominance for a moment before giving in. He had known, then and there, that he was kissing someone other then his Jess.

But he had let the kiss go on, curious. It had felt, like they had – in that moment – belonged. It was something he had only ever shared with Jess before. It was something that Jess had _seen_ , had watched – likely from start to finish.

Sam didn't know how Jess would take that. Didn't even know how Harry had taken it. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the other boy, huddled in the bed, seemingly desolate. It hurt Sam to see Harry like that. Wondering what he thought he was doing, he went over to Harry, and sat beside him within arms reach for he was unsure of the others reaction even now.

"It…was…" Sam started stumbling over his words, and knowing it.

"Don't say it was an accident. I liked it. I didn't pull away. I knew it was you from the start…it's…" Harry spoke, soft, not looking him in the eye least he see something like rejection. Like hate. He didn't want Sam to hate him not even after this. Before Harry could say "my fault" and put the blame wrongly all on his own shoulders, Sam spoke up.

"It's not your fault, the way you kiss isn't like Jess at all, and I knew that from the start," Sam told him, knowing his face was flushed. That he was blushing. Harry looked up, and sensing the movement, Sam did as well, meeting his eyes in that moment.

"Still, for what it's worth, I'm sorry I kissed…back." The words struggled forth from Harry's mouth, and it hurt something in Sam to hear them. He only hoped Harry didn't truly mean them.

"Don't say that," Sam murmured before he could stop himself, knowing it was the truth. He didn't want what they had shared to be regretted, though – in truth - it had only been a kiss. It was then that Jess opened the bathroom door. Sam wasn't surprised they hadn't noticed the shower turning off.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Jess wasn't angry, per say, as much as she was confused. She had seen the way Sam had kissed Harry Both of them had enjoyed it, in that she had no doubt. That didn't surprise her. What did was that she too had enjoyed that kiss, enjoyed Harry's reaction to Sam as if it had been she who had kissed Harry so boldly. It had been no accident that she had headed to the shower to think, rather than the door.

Shakily, in her own mind she had gone through the motions, washing her hair, slick suds slipping off her body, brushing her teeth. Only when she had steamed up the mirrors did she decide she had spent enough keeping Sam and Harry in suspense. Someone still had to make sure they ate and got to classes on time.

Wearing a towel that wrapped around her chest snuggly and just managed to cover her thigh, she came out of the shower to see Sam sitting beside Harry, seeming to have brought a measure of peace to the younger with whatever he had said. It was then that Jess felt a stab of guilt, knowing Harry hadn't known how they would react – what they would do.

It was a very good bet that Harry had likely thought Sam would throw him out on the streets though Jess would let no such thing happen to him. Without commenting on anything, which probably worried them more so then it reassured, she went to the little fridge beside the microwave and below the cabinet that Sam had kept in his room for late night or early morning snacks.

"Anyone for a snack…?" Jess asked, her voice whisper soft in the silence that surrounded them, muffling them in it.

"Jess…" Sam began, but she waved a hand. She would not talk about this until they had eaten and calmed somewhat. That she stayed was at least proof of her sincerity in working this through, of not abandoning them.

Harry though, worried her with his silence. She brought over what he had confessed were his favorites yesterday when she had asked while attempting to distract him with what had happened at the college office with the receptionist. Sam's favorite she hadn't hesitated over. He loved cheesy snakes, while Harry liked chips (which she had gotten as a surprise for him when coming back to Sam's dorm from classes); though making her own jelly and peanut butter sandwich with lettuce took more than either of their breakfasts.

When she had settled comfortably on Harry's other side and nibbled on it, the other two followed her example, though Harry was quicker than either Sam or herself. When they were done, the little bags crinkled when Sam gathered them together, squeezing them into a ball before tossing it to the trash. It missed. Jess thought he had done so on purpose, a way of breaking the ice. Whatever his intention had been to start with, it worked.

"Stick to being a lawyer, Sam, your no good with sports," Jess teased her tone gentle so Sam would not mistake it for being sarcastic. Sam stuck his tongue out at her, while Harry looked between them, as if checking to be sure this was not a trap.

"What's the game plan?" Sam asked in turn, not entirely teasing.

"We could stick together, or go our separate ways…or we could see about joining up with the rookie. Either way, I'm going need to borrow some clothes, and I don't fit in your jeans Sam," Jess murmured, lowering her eye lashes with a glance to Harry, who flushed, only then reminded of her unclothed state. Sam chuckled, amused, though he tossed her a shirt from the clean clothes.

She put it on, though Harry didn't know if it was better or worse to know that she wasn't wearing under things. Seeing his hesitations, Sam rummaged though Harry's duffle to get some pants, obligingly the duffle seemed to spit out a pair. While Sam thought that odd, he didn't comment as he handed them over to Jess. Unaware that while he had been occupied, Jess had seen the almost panicked look Harry had tossed to the duffle.

As the boys took their turns with the one bathroom (an advantage to the girls' dorms that Jess had always thought unfair), Jess wondered when she should tell Harry she knew he was a wizard, and she, a witch.

She shrugged it off as she finished dressing and started on her hair, knowing she would have to stop by her dorm to finish up getting ready. She knew there were always a good time and a place for those sorts of talks, and it was not just yet that she could grab that sort of chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't quite decided what to do yet, though even I'm surprised the magical folk have made a appearance, please leave a comment, they help to inspire. As always, you have my thanks for your reviews.


	5. Of Messages Written On Mirrors

Jess knew the moment she stepped into her room that it had been broken into. Call it female intuition, call it witchy feelings of the "forces" being disturbed, or call it plain _obvious_ because of the willful disarray.

Alright, so the room not being as clean as it had been before she left might be explained by the plain fact that most teenagers were messy. But she had had the same roommate since starting here, and knew the girl was anal about cleanliness, as most nursing students were.

Muttering under her breath she began the task of putting her clothes and her breakables on her bed. While the papers and books were scattered on her desk, being late was the least of her problems. If her roommate, Sharon – or "Shari" as she preferred – came back to this… well, the rest of the year would be nagging, even if it wasn't meant that way.

She had half an hour to make a "disaster" look like an organized mess. Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard. Oddly, for a "break in" nothing of hers that she noticed was missing, which was sort of the point of going into someone's room to rearrange their belongings – most of the time.

Narrowing her eyes, she considered the option that this was an intimidation tactic. Her thoughts were only confirmed when she went into the bathroom to find a ketchup message scrawled across her mirror. The ketchup was supposed to represent blood, or danger. The message itself was fairly clear that the line was meant to be blurred between the two.

" _Stay Away._ "

Jess lifted her lip to snarl at the message. It was dried ketchup, so it would either peal or stick, she wasn't sure which; but, either way, it fell to her to it clean up, and she resented that fact, deeply. At least now she knew what this was about _. T_ _hey_ were trying to scare her into doing what they wanted.

They being the only ones who could enter her dorm room without notice (admittedly the security system in the building sucked, but she was referring more so to the fact that her metaphysical protections hadn't so much as _pinged_ ) and leave this sort of message on a mirror of all things.

A mirror was a boundary – a representation of the next world, every witch or wizard knew that much if they were smart. Her boundary had been crossed, violated, and a message sent for added warning. They wanted to know she was being watched, wanted her to follow their rules, and wanted her upset.

Narrowing her eyes as she wiped the message away, she wondered what she should do. Stanford's magical community was more of a fraternity then an actual organization the rest of the magical world acknowledged. Outside this school, they didn't have much power, but within they could make life hell.

For the most part, they didn't know what they wanted. They pretended to be a coven, held rites, celebrated forgotten pagan rituals, and held a firm belief in their own superiority over everyone not included in their collative. But the one thing that ticked them off was relations between magical and not magical people. Possibly because of jealously over the fact that outside their group, they were considered somewhere between "freaks" and "outcasts".

Though they preached it was because of "blood purity" (what "blood purity" was what Jess wanted to know, as everyone had some ancestor from at least three countries, let alone magical heritage which was known by its inherited nature to generally skip a few generations) and the fact that at least in Stanford they didn't want someone magical to be with someone "not".

That sort of prejudice had died out almost a hundred years ago for the rest of America's witches and wizards. Instead of scaring witches and wizards into isolated pockets of "magic only" communities as Witch hunting, hanging, and burning (it wasn't as if they didn't have spells for making that sort of thing harmless) had went about crazing the world; Americas own magical folk had quietly gone to through the motions of being recognized as citizens and having their own recognized place in government.

Where if someone was accused of magic, the government would take care of it under law rather then letting things get out of hand and fall into a religious mob. America had to deal with the fact that, yes, magic was real and it wasn't going away. For the most part it went over well and America had settled into a mixing pot on its views of magic and supernatural. Some even openly made claims and thus made money from their talents. But, other then those few, rarely did one announce to being a wizard or witch to the general public at large.

There was no need for such ridicule and fear. Yet, all the same, it still occasionally surfaced in the most unlikely of places.

Jess took one last glance over the room, eyes checking to be sure she had not missed anything. She wasn't about to "stay away" from Sam - or Harry – and if _they_ didn't like it… Well, that was too bad because they didn't have any business making judgments over _her_ life, and she intended to make that perfectly clear by tonight.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Did you hear what happened during lunch?" A curly haired girl practically bounced on the balls of her feet, Sam watched somewhat amused, as she addressed another who wore their hair in dreadlocks. The deadlocked one shook his head seemingly at a loss at how to handle the bundle of energy presented to him. It was pretty clear they didn't actually know one another on name-to-name bases.

"Yeah, well these girls came screaming out of the bathroom – something about the walls _bleeding_ the words "revenge is mine". Only it wasn't blood. It was _ketchup_ , what _idiots_." Curly hair grinned prettily when dreadlocks grunted in agreement. Much to dreadlocks obvious relief, the curly haired one bounced off to someone else.

Sam could have dismissed it as something of a coincidence. He was here, weird stuff was happening, but something about it seemed to give his instincts pause. It had only been ketchup, true enough, but it had been a warning besides. It might be college prank… or something supernatural.

Sam stifled a sigh when he glanced to his wristwatch and saw he was late. The not-really-very supernatural occurrence would have to wait; or his class would be starting without him.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Harry really hadn't been able to think about classes all day having been too caught up in what had happened that morning, which was likely a bad thing, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He could always use a Pensieve to review the classes later, after he had sorted out… _things_. Of course, there were some things he couldn't change about his class schedules, such as the fact he came back to the dorms later than Sam and Jess.

He had been half-hoping – and half-dreading – that they would be there to meet him after classes. They were. The good thing about it was he no longer felt awkward walking in on them together. Instead, something like anticipation swirled about his chest. Sam gave him a small smile, glancing to the place on the bed beside them. The beds, he notice, were still pulled together, though the place offered was free of papers and stray bits of study notes.

That was another thing. Harry didn't really take notes, though he did know that nothing magically done replaced looking through a book (Hermione had drilled that into him through-out their years at Hogwarts) and research. In fact, if Hermione knew of his Pensieve plan, she'd do something – Harry didn't know what, but he did know she would do _something_ and it would not have 'pleasant' results – to him.

In the short version of things, he was fairly certain they would take notice of the fact that he did not take notes or study if he didn't do so in the next few days. Which meant he would have to take notes and study, Pensieve or no Pensieve.

"Harry…?" Jess spoke up, looking a tad worried by the fact that he hadn't really spoken since entering. Harry felt himself flush, looking to the side. Nonetheless, he went to sit beside them setting his knapsack onto the ground and pulling a book from within out at random, if only to appear ready to study.

"So how was the second day?" Sam asked teasingly of him. As little of the day as Harry remembered, he would have to say "not much", but that would sound as if he was blowing Sam off – and not in the good way that sent heat pooling beneath his navel - and then they'd likely worry.

"Ah…didn't really soak anything in, I think someone mentioned the girls bathrooms being haunted." Harry's lips tilted in amusement at the thought, the slight reminder of Moaning Myrtle not escaping him. Sam chuckled, likely having heard the same thing, though Jess paled a bit but gave a brave sort of smile.

Seeing her expression, Harry worried for her. He had meant the comment to relax them, though if Jess had seen the ghost – or whatever – haunting the bathroom, that changed things. Harry knew that if it involved Jess, he'd look into it, whatever he had thought before.

"Overheard someone mentioning about ketchup coming out of the walls to spell "revenge is mine", or some such nonsense," Sam commented grinning while Harry was distracted. Harry ducked his head down to pretend-study the book page he had flipped to. In truth, he wasn't seeing it. He glimpsed Jess slightly tense, a pinched look forming on her face that he had never witnessed before.

"Must have been some prank…" Jess finally spoke, her tone calmer than Harry had thought she looked only a moment ago. She looked normal when Sam grinned up at her, and Harry half thought he had imagined it.

He bit his lip – maybe he had. He wrote " _ghost bathroom_?" along the page, knowing he wouldn't have to worry about returning the book as he had paid for it already. It was something to look into. If it made Jess the slightest bit nervous, he had to take care of it. He wouldn't see her in danger – her, or Sam.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Jess tucked herself behind Sam, letting him have the middle. She thought it was cute the way he grinned at Harry earlier. She hated that things were moving so slowly between them. True, it was only the "first day" of their relationship, but a part of her yearned for that closeness she had seen in her dream after meeting Harry. Another part of her feared it, for it meant that she might die all the sooner.

Though the future wasn't something settled at the bottom of a tea cup or unraveled by crystal ball – no more or less than it was revealed in dreams – it could change. Knowing that she might die could change events. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to believe that she couldn't change what she had glimpsed.

So it was just as well things were moving as they were. Cuddling was great. Sam kissing Harry in the morning was what she found herself really looking forward to again. It was very… _yummy_ , and she felt about the luckiest girl in the world to have them both. She tightened her grip on Sam and felt him murmur soothingly before holding her hand to his lips. She felt Harry holding her hand too.

It was their clasped hands that she found was what she needed; the reassurance they both offered without asking. She didn't know why it was so easy for them to accept her, but it was. She didn't know everything about them – about what had happened to her boys before they came into her life – and found she didn't need to know. It was enough that they loved her, and she them. She hoped it would always be enough.

Which reminded her… she _really_ needed to go clean up her mess in the "haunted" bathroom before the fact that the ketchup would return if washed away by normal means became rumor instead of a janitor's annoyance. She didn't need Sam and Harry snooping about there. Although Jess knew Sam didn't know she was a witch, it would only be a matter of time before Harry found out. Better she tell outright him, then Harry find out by accident. Only thing was, she didn't know _how_ to tell him…or Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, hope now you can see how the witch/wizard coven fraternity people was sort of important to the plot, as it leads Harry strait to Jess, who knows he is a wizard (remember, she saw his wand). Only question is if the witch/wizard coven fraternity people have learned their lesson…or have a greater revenge in mind for later…-grins-…anyone think they need a "group name"? I'd love some suggestions.
> 
> Lastly….I hate that Sam had such a small part in this chapter….-pouts-


	6. Our Web Of Glinting Threads

"What's all this about, Jess?" A grin they could not see (as they were blindfolded) quirked on her lips. She'd gotten them in to her car, convinced them to her conditions (they humored her, she suspected, because it was, after all _her_ birthday), and now they were parked outside her surprise to _them_.

Traditionally, she was supposed to be the one getting all the presents. Jess was not one for "tradition." Though, if asked otherwise, she would have said this _was_ her present – to herself. That it benefited Harry and Sam was a bonus she would not have passed off easily. Harry was not taking the blindfolding well. He was pasty white and was breathing kind of quick, but he was dealing – not asking any questions of her. For his sake, she was glad the drive was a short one. Sam though…. well, Sam had been the one to ask the question of her. He'd felt the car park.

"Look ahead and take off the blindfold." Jess looked in the mirror to the backseat to better take in their expressions when it sunk in. Harry made quick work of the blindfold, neat and efficient as he always was, though there was jerkiness to his movements that spoke of his fear. Jess promised herself to make it up to him later. She hadn't thought how much this would cost Harry.

Sam practically tore the blindfold off, no better off than Harry. Jess felt the warmth in her heart grow, filling her up to a point she thought she might overflow with tears of heartache and love. She didn't know why they didn't trust the world they walked in, but they trusted _her_ – trusted her to not put them in danger…not to hurt them. She hadn't realized how much that would mean to her.

They weren't looking at her, at the moment. They were looking at what she had parked in front of. It had been her promise to herself that she would not live on the campus dorms when she could live in one of the better houses the school maintained for its students. Sam had known her "promise" but had thought it more of a dream. Harry had, in his quite way, only accepted her words as facts for the soon to be future. He had likely guessed where she'd take them.

It was a pretty place, all on the ground level, because ever since she had been small she had feared heights. It had a kitchen (the fridge and cabinets fully stocked with both food and dishes and other such things Harry was fond of) and two bathrooms (she _would_ have one to herself, damned it – as much as she loved them she did not like dirty laundry or finding the toilet seat up when she went to pee) along with a living room and one bedroom.

Damned right the three of them would share a bed for more then one night a week, on campus rules be damned. They were in the "real world" and could do whatever they pleased in it. Stifling her smugness in her actions, she observed instead. Harry's eyes ran over the house, taking it in, measuring it in some way that only he could understand. Sam gave it that same sort of look-over. His more in defensive and offence than whatever Harry was looking for. Jess stifled her reaction – a roll of her eyes or a long-lived sigh. Instead, she waited for it to sink in.

They did not disappoint her. Sam shared a look with Harry, one that said clearly " _It's cool, you seeing what I am? Right_ …" Harry merely nodded with a quirk of his lips " _You doubt that she'd do_ this?" and _that_ was that. Without a word being passed between them, they had taken it in on the surface and accepted certain facts.

"Jess…" there was a wary uncertainty in Sam's voice, one that she had prepared herself for, "how much is all this?" Jess knew Sam didn't have much money to his name. He'd gotten in to Stanford on a scholarship and grants, and stayed with hard work and a day job. He would be leery of this venture – its cost in rent and bills, in mileage to and from the house, school and work. He wouldn't take this as a gift, he'd want to pay his part. Jess knew he would, but she'd already had it worked out.

As for Harry… well, she didn't know how he'd take it. She was hoping for his support in convincing Sam that this was a good idea cost be damned. Their privacy was worth _at least_ this much. Harry met her eyes when she sought them before answering Sam. His steady ease calmed her. In this at least, she knew he was on her side. He'd done her the favor (when he had brought it up a few weeks after they started getting serious) of taking himself off the house reservation for the spring, so he might had suspected something of this sort.

"I've paid the rent up for three months. All we'll have to worry over is the bills to this place and we can split that three-ways, so it shouldn't be as much as you think. When the rent comes due again in three months we'll work something else, I promise. If it comes to it just think of me as the one you pay rent to... _alright_?" She said the last part a little shrill and Sam nodded, wide eyed. Harry chuckled, soft and low, pulling and playing along things within her. With the look Sam gave him (" _This isn't the time for_ that _, what are you doing_?!") she wasn't the only one so affected.

"Don't ruin _her_ day, Sam." Glinting green eyes promised certain things (her imagination went dirty – ball gags – bondage? _Hmmm_ , all yummy, and she knew as it was " _her day_ _,_ " Harry would let her watch him "punish" their Sam…) if Sam dared argue further.

Sam narrowed his eyes, as if about to say something and Harry moved in for the kill (or, rather, kiss) as Jess watched, breathless and a little wide eyed herself. Harry had Sam straddled (when had he gotten his seat belt off – had he been wearing one…? And why the _fuck_ did that matter again?) Harry tucked against Sam, sitting in his lap, hands tugging in Sam's hair and against his shoulders and chest. Harry _knew_ how to kiss (or rather, he had _learned_ to kiss too damn well _very quickly_ , natural multi-talented little fuck that he was…) not that Sam (or she) minded all too much at the moment.

When Harry was finished with Sam, he leaned back, intent eyes settled on Sam as he smirked. He was _very_ pleased with himself, and tilted his head to the side.

" _Alright_ …?" Jess felt for Sam, who probably couldn't think past the warm weight in his lap and the startling green eyes watching him. Harry smirked victoriously at Sam's mumbled words.

"M'kay…sure?" Jess thought it was a very good time to move things from the backseat of the car into their new bedroom. Harry made a pleased sound and started kissing and licking along Sam's jaw and neck… down his collarbone…

Nimble fingers maked quick work of the buttoned shirt Sam was fond of ("Easier access", Harry had agreed at the time and, much to Jess' amusement, Sam had turned a vivid red) and shifted just enough to get Sam free of his pants and boxers. Harry wiggled just enough to slip his shorts past his knees and offer her the tempting sight of his ass. It was as much encouragement as she would ever have needed, as she slipped out of the driver's seat and her plans for the new huge bed forgotten in favor for what was offered in her backseat….maybe they'd get inside the house later.

For now, this was her "birthday present"…

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

It had surprised them only the first time when Harry had cooked and the food had not only been edible, but _fantastic_. After then, well, Harry had made it quite clear that the kitchen area was _his_. They hadn't made an argument of it, it was simply fact. Aside from later deciding which between themselves would be the first one do dishes (as they both agreed, the cook _did not do_ dishes), the matter had been laid to rest. It was why when Jess woke to an empty bed that morning (she remembered Sam had to go to work that morning, at least) and smelt sausage and eggs, she'd known Harry was in the kitchen.

Following her nose had been almost instinct. Even so, Jess usually woke up then went about going into _her_ bathroom for a shower and such before venturing into the kitchen for breakfast. Why it was she didn't follow routine this time, she'd never really known. She would never have forgiven herself after if things hadn't worked out as they had.

She had surprised Harry who'd been slicing more sausage to fry, his fingers moving ahead of the blade in a way she'd almost always dreaded. This time, for some reason – her footsteps, her shadow – something about it all had spooked Harry. The knife was going down too quick _and_ _his fingers had not moved_. Jess had panicked, and as Harry had turned to look at her, his expression of startled surprise shifting swiftly to blankness as her spell acted, as he saw her wand for the first time, pointed at him. Her heart lurching as she spat out a spell (the _only_ spell she could think of)...

" _Impervius_...!" The knife pressed down, but did not cut into the sausage – or Harry's fingers. Jess shook with reaction, trembling in shock and fear. Her secret was out. She had _known_ Harry was a wizard – would she forgive him in not telling? Would he leave her – them? Before she was aware of it, she was speaking, though the words did not make sense to Harry… unless Harry could look into her mind.

"Don't do that, don't _ever_ do that…." _Don't leave me – please, don't leave us, Sam would never forgive me…never, never_ …She was aware that she clung to Harry, her sobs shaking her chest and tearing into her heart with her fear as tears trailed down her cheeks. But she was only aware of Harry, the warmth of his skin (he wasn't wearing a shirt, again…) and that he was holding her, moving her, curling around her on the bed and murmuring soft words and comforting her with soothing wordless sounds.

When she woke again, she smelt burnt food (had Harry remembered too late to turn the stovetop off?) and a crustiness in her eyes. She was tucked against Harry, his arms holding her, but not restraining her. She knew he was not asleep. Not looking at him, she moved, wriggling out of his arms as she went to take a shower. Maybe after that, she could face him and his choice.

She felt more human when she came out, but she had not lost her dreading fear – the hollowness that threatened to swallow her with the wrong words.

Harry sat at the kitchen table. drinking tea (which he only did when he wanted to be reminded of home and where it was he'd lived most of his life). He looked up when she walked in and pressed his lips, looking her over with new eyes. It was as if he had never seen her before, as if she were the stranger.

"So, you are a…witch." Harry had not let his voice show how he felt, and she missed that, feared what it might mean. She nodded, walking toward him, glad only that he did not flinch from her when she sat wordlessly beside him.

"I am. I also know that you are a wizard…" Jess confessed, feeling Harry go tense beside her. That hurt, but she knew that this break in trust would take long to heal, if she were given the chance to let it heal at all. It had to heal, this had to be salvageable.

"And… Sam?" Harry sounded so lost and afraid that she found herself reaching for Harry, curling her arms around him, comforting. Suddenly she was not the only one hurting or lost. Harry let her touch him – no, it was _more_ than that. He welcomed her touch and comfort with a relief that was almost tangible.

"Does not know…." She whispered it against his ear, breathing in the scent of his hair, and let him shake against her. Tears did not show in his eyes, or trail down his cheeks, but he cried letting go of his past, of his fears. She held him all the same, though she did not know his past or why he shivered in her arms over a loss he did not voice. She knew then that she did not know him, not as well as she felt she _ought_ to have.

"We'll have to _tell him_." Those had become dreaded words. No matter how she avoided it, Harry was insistent, though he wanted her to be by his side – in agreement – when _it_ happened. The truth… _T_ _heir_ truth. A truth that as quickly as bad tasting medicine, Harry seemed determined to spill out and shove down Sam's throat. Jess also knew that Harry would only wait for so long before he acted – with or without her. He was being rash, as if it – the truth – would only matter to them.

Jess considered _the others_ – the Stanford witches, the other magical folk of the community, the government – how _they_ would react to knowing that a witch and wizard, formidable in their own right, had gained the attentions of a Hunter. Had an _alliance_ with a Hunter, a relationship that was very _unusual_ in its nature.

Those with magic were of two minds about Hunters. They were confused muggles who feared what they did not understand lashing out dangerously and carelessly against all things they did not think "natural," and thus, dangerous and needed to be killed when encountered.

Or those who thought that, Hunters – as a whole – generally had the right idea. There was a darker side to magic and those "in the know" of the supernatural, those usually preyed not on the gathered and powerful magical community, but on the "helpless" and "worthless" muggles.

Not unsurprisingly, the magical community as a whole was content and did not waddle out of its safely protected group to protect those preyed upon. As strong as magic was, it made those with it weak, because they liked the power too much to give it up for those it could, instead, cast aside rather than protect as it should have.

Harry wanted to tell Sam the truth, a truth that would begin to unravel everything that the magical community took for granted. Jess didn't know if Harry grasped that. If the truth were told, she was afraid in a way that Harry did not seem to have a second thought about. If they challenged the magical community, they would make enemies – powerful ones – very quickly. They – and Sam – would be in danger. Maybe for the rest of their lives, however long– or short – a time that would be.

"Do you honestly think _they_ would let us tell him, and then go back to how things are _now_?" Jess finally asked of Harry. Her tone was curious though she tried to keep the disbelief from her voice. Harry pressed his lips, a hurt look entering his eyes.

"I've thought of that too, Jess. How would they know, if we didn't say? Sam wouldn't exactly walk up and _tell_ them outright, now would he?" Harry didn't make an effort to restrain his sarcasm as his eyes narrowed on her unpleasantly. Jess pressed her own lips tightly closed, lest she say something she would regret. When she had thought her words out, and felt a little calmer, she spoke.

"Harry, there are spies everywhere – even _here_ on the outskirts. Do you think they haven't been keeping an eye out on us since we moved in here? They know you are a wizard and that I am a witch. Likely, they know Sam is – or was – a Hunter. They will feel threatened if we told him the truth. They would act accordingly and hunt us down, Harry… even kill us." Jess let her voice fade, afraid when Harry only shook his head as if he did not – or could not – grasp what she told him. It was a fact, the magical community would act and they would end up in the crossfire. Harry didn't seem to know what that meant.

 _How could he not know this_? Jess wondered wildly, feeling as if she were caught in a maze where nothing made any sense.

"We'd be alright, Jess. They aren't all powerful. Trust me on that much, at least…" Harry kind of flinched when he spoke those words, looking away from her for the first time. His green eyes scanned over the room, looking anywhere but at her. Jess knew Harry had the sort of past that was whispered about. He'd gotten mixed up in something, but the details he'd never shared haunted him, she'd never asked – would never ask – because she knew this was something Harry would share with her, when he was ready, and no sooner than that.

"What if…what if I could guarantee that we'd be safe or, at least, we'd know if something were coming for us? That we'd be…connected, that we'd know if one of us was in danger?" Harry surprised her with his questions. When she met his eyes, she saw that they were bright and focused on this goal of his to connect them. This much she knew he felt he was _sure_ he could do.

"I'd….I'll consider it, alright Harry? Though only if you could do something like that, I'm not even sure if it's possible, even for us…" Jess trailed off, seeing that Harry had a distant look in his eyes. It was no use talking to him when he was in a mood like this one, as he was so determined to find a way. She sighed softly, patting him on the shoulder as she passed him. He made no movement and she knew that she'd have to try to get through to him another time.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"I've surprises for you both…" Harry murmured softly in the dark. He'd curled himself to Jess' back, looking over her shoulder to Sam, who looked back at him bemused. Sam groaned softly, shaking his head fondly as Harry watched on. Jess could only chuckle, smirking slightly at Sam, who made no move to get away from them.

"You wait till now – _now_ , when I'm content, warm, and _satisfied_ – to tell me you've a surprise?" Sam grumbled good naturedly, glancing to Jess to make sure this wasn't something that they'd plotted together. Seeing her curiosity, he deemed her innocent and returned her " _Do you have something to do with this_?" with his own " _Nope. Innocent until proven guilty…_ " Harry had moved to the dresser, plucking a box from the drawer before settling once again on the covers.

"You're a very wicked person, Harry – anyone ever tell you that?" Sam mumbled softly his eyes a little wide, his face flushing as his mind raced with what could be contained in a box a little wider then his thumb. It was a very short list. Jess, at his side, had stilled, watching Harry intently, her lips pressed in something like a frown, though it was not quite one – not yet.

"It was really Jess who gave me the idea. Though, I don't think she thought I'd go through with something like this…" Sam gave Jess an accusing glace, but Jess did not return it. Instead, she focused on Harry and the little box he held loosely in one hand. It looked so innocent.

Harry flipped the lid open, cradling something in his hand as he looked between both Jess and Sam.

"Hold out your hands, close your eyes." Anyone else would have thought it an order, but the two of them knew better. It was a hopeful request, though it showed clearly how nervous Harry was of how his gift would be received.

Looking between each other a final time, both Jess and Sam complied.

Jess felt the weight of it fall into her palm. It was a ring and it hummed with power, magic at its rawest – pure emotion. This though, was strange, for when a witch or wizard usually manifested uncontrolled magic during an emotional outburst, it was negative. This magic felt…positive, loving. It would be warm to the touch, always.

Jess could not help but open her eyes then.

She blinked back the wetness that had gathered in her eyes. It was lovely. Harry had chosen his design well. It could be shaped by nothing other than magical craft. A wizard – or witch – had made this, not even a dwarf could shape a trinket that pulsed alive with such magic. It was a [golden ring](http://www.abbeycelticjewelry.com/images/R114.gif), with no spell or rune along the sides to ruin the effect of the symbol that faced her. She recognized it as something that looked ancient and full of meaning that she was not entirely sure of.

It was a knot, a Celtic knot, a physical manifestation of the tie that bound the three of them together. It was what Harry had promised her. _This_ would let her know, for sure, if either of her boys was ever in danger. She ran her forefinger over the little trinity knot, unaware of the soft smile that graced her lips.

"I guess…we should consider ourselves engaged, huh?" Sam mused, grinning as he looked from the ring he had not hesitated to put around his finger to both Harry and Jess. Harry watched Jess carefully, as if her opinion mattered most of all. Jess hadn't said a word or looked at anything but the ring in her palm, then finally she put it on. It was all she had had to do. No other word or reassurance was needed.

"I suppose we are. This, I think…should be… _celebrated_." It was with a wicked look that Jess pounced on Harry, tickling him until he was a quivering mess of laughter. When his pleas for her to stop were granted, neither was entirely surprised when pleas of a different sort followed soon after….

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Jess rolled over towards where – a moment ago – warmth had pressed against her, soothing her to a restless sleep. Sam was gone. _Probably to the bathroom_ , she reassured herself sleepily curling into Harry's side, shivering only a little as chill air wafted over her skin giving her goose bumps. _Where's the blanket_? Jess wondered a moment later, her mind focusing on the cold. She blinked open her eyes, searching the nearby areas on the bed. It too, was gone.

She listened for Sam, expecting his footsteps and tread to tell her he was coming back to bed. She'd tell him to get the blanket from wherever he had shoved it. Instead she heard hushed voices – male – coming from the kitchen though there was no smells of food being made. Maybe they were talking about what to surprise her with for breakfast.

 _Did I oversleep_? Jess wondered, frowning in the dark. She could hear Sam well enough, but Harry….

 _Harry was beside her_.

Jess, went suddenly still and tense beside Harry who never slept easily and woke quickly enough.

"Jess…? What is it? Just a bad dream…" Harry murmured to her, nearly too soft to hear. He was turning toward her, and would trap her against him in an attempt to comfort until he heard her dreams or she woke him enough to realize this wasn't a dream.

"Something is wrong… Sam's with some stranger in the kitchen… might have broken in…" Jess hissed to him, nudging him away before he could get his arm around her. She went quickly to the bathroom, not entirely confident in her ability to scare off a thief without a threat to her skin. It was a trial getting the pink short-shorts that Sam liked on (the only thing in her bathroom not terribly dirty) and tossing on a blue shirt without looking at it.

Having wasted enough time, she didn't see if Harry was waiting for her. Instead, she went right to the living room thanking whatever electrician that had worked the wiring on the house that the light was right outside their bedroom and not by the door. She started to flick the light on, but not before she heard the other male voice say something odd.

"If I would have called, would you've picked up?" This, she knew as light flooded the living room, was no thief. It was someone else. Someone her Sam _knew_.

"Sam?" Jess couldn't wait to hear his reasoning his way out of _this_ one (he wouldn't tell her or Harry he was a Hunter, just as she wouldn't just say she was a witch…) Jess felt Harry behind her, and _knew_ he was there – in plain sight, when Sam looked over her shoulder and the elder of the two raised a eyebrow, looking between the pair of them and her Sam. Possessively, Harry moved closer – but it was Jess who reached for his hand and Harry – as he always would, gave in to her wishes. Their hands clasped – their rings very visible, she saw the elder check Sam's hand – finding their ring there too, and draw in a surprised breath.

There would be explaining, Jess knew then, on both sides...


	7. What Witches Won't Whisper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have funnies.
> 
> O.o.O.o.O.o.O
> 
> (Alternate Beginning of Chapter)
> 
> "And who's he?" Dean strolled into the room, oozing charm like a cat in heat, purring to be petted. It disturbed Sam a bit. Dean wass looking at Harry, which had to be addressed, because Sam just didn't think his brother was that way, but apparently he was now.
> 
> "Mine," Sam snarled it, and hovered over Harry like a shadowy stalker bodyguard. Harry wasn't looking anyone in the eye. He might have been a bit red cheeked.
> 
> "Collecting a harem, Sam?" Dean seemed to pause in his sensual pursuits, perhaps brought to a halt by Sam's claim which perked his metaphysical cat ears in interest.
> 
> "Maybe a little bit," Jess admited, sick of being background. Sam might have been a bit red now, but he wasn't standing down from hovering over Harry protectively.
> 
> "That a boy, Sammy," Dean glowed at his little brother, and it was just a little bit creepy.
> 
> "…."Sam started to wonder about demon possession as Dean preened and muttered about things that sound like "about time", and "all grown up, so cute!"...there was then a significant pause, in which Dean filled by saying;
> 
> "Can I join?" Dean tried hard not to fidget as he was looked over. Sam hadn't said yes or no, but he was a bit startled to judge by his adorable big-eyed-dear look. Harry looked between Sam, and Jess, who might have been drooling a little and the gleeful bouncing was just a little disturbing.
> 
> "Yummy!" Jess said, and Dean thought he might be in serious danger of being eaten later.
> 
> "Jess…" Sam was strained, put upon, and maybe a little annoyed as if he had this conversation before with Jess, as if was same-old, same-ole; it was like taking in strays or orphans. Dean had to wonder how many times this had happened. He might have also felt a little bit of murderous rage, but he would save that till after the sex – which he was looking forward to.
> 
> "What? I vote yes, damn-it. I have incest kink-urges, they must be satisfied. You remember the red headed twins, Sam? I remember the red head twins. Strange how they just left after that visit, eh Harry?" Jess was very persistent about it, now, and Dean could only cross his fingers. He also had to be on the look out, later, for red headed twins. They might have been boys. He would have to ask Sam later.
> 
> "Harry?" Sam asked, as if pleading for help in this lost cause. Harry just sort of blinked at him, as if he wasn't sure what Sam was expecting him to do, because he certainly wasn't going to stand in the way of Jess and her "urges." They, after all, got him into this mess after all, and he didsn't mind much letting Jess have her way. But this was Sam's brother, and it might have been a little bit of revenge on Harry's side for Sam not helping him spare Fred and George from knowing about his sex life in kinky intimate detail. Harry wass still half waiting for the tabloid. Or book.
> 
> "Harry says yes." Jess said, after a look to Harry, which wasn't so much reading his expression (or mind) but womanly instinct.
> 
> "He hasn't said anything!" Sam protested too much sometimes, Jess had learned, and this simply wasn't good for him. It was time for him to learn who really ruled this harem.
> 
> "He says yes, Sam. Harry, say yes." Jess was looking at Harry. If he didn't say yes; he felt he might be in very real mortal danger. Hair curling and extensions might be involved. Harry felthe had no choice.
> 
> "Yes." It might have been a bit of a questioning tone, as if he was asking if he was saying the right thing. Or Jess might have stomped on his foot. A little bit.
> 
> "It's been voted, Dean, you are now in Sam's harem." Jess gave Dean a big smile with white sharp teeth. Dean did a little happy dance.
> 
> "This is so wrong." Sam watched, twitching a bit, and he might have shuffled a little awkwardly as if trying to join in on happy dances while not being caught at it. He sounded vaguely horrified, really, so Harry gave the only answer he could while Jess was preoccupied admiring her shiny new Dean toy.
> 
> "And yet, you like it." Harry might have been a bit too smug about saying so.
> 
> "Shut up, Harry." Sam's cheeks were very red.

"Sam?" Jess couldn't wait to hear his reasoning his way out of _this_ one (he wouldn't tell her or Harry he was a Hunter, just as she wouldn't just say she was a witch…). Jess felt Harry behind her, and _knew_ he was there – in plain sight – when Sam looked over her shoulder and the elder of the two raised a eyebrow, looking between the pair of them and her Sam. Possessively, Harry moved closer but it was Jess who reached for his hand and Harry – as he always would – gave in to her wishes. Their hands clasped with their rings very visible. She saw the elder check Sam's hand finding their ring there too, and draw in a surprised breath.

There would be explaining, Jess knew, on both sides...

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"Ah, Jess – Harry, this…this is Dean." Sam's voice didn't waver. He lifted his chin up stubborn and proud as Dean looked to him, a question in his eyes. Sam stepped back from Dean, putting himself very clearly between his brother, and Jess and Harry. The three of them were very clearly undressed, with messy hair, and too wide eyes from being woken from bed.

" _Your brother_ , Dean?" Jess asked of Sam as she nodded at Dean. She looked to Harry and settled when Harry nodded in acknowledgement of the fact. Whatever little details Sam had told them of his family, Dean had most assuredly been _mentioned_ – not a figment of Jess' dreaming – if Harry agreed with her statement.

"You get married or something?" Dean asked Sam. Then, unable to help himself in his amusement, his lips quirking in a way that implied that Sam was a naughty boy. Or that Dean hadn't suspected that Sam had in it in him. Sam flushed, but didn't look away.

"Yeah, as good as," Jess stepped forward to say, still clinging to Harry's hand for courage.

"Ah, well, I gotta tell you – _you_ are completely out of my brother's league," Dean told her, looking her over, her hair, her breasts, and legs, and Jess felt exposed and shy. She gritting her teeth against snapping at him or shying away from this unexpected "brother" of her Sam, who was polite and decent, and not nearly as brash and crude as his elder brother was proving to be.

"Just…let me put something on," Jess muttered, not blushing, because this was _her_ apartment and she shared it with two college "boys." She was not going to be shamed by that or her looks. Harry stirred beside her, green eyes narrowed. Jess knew that Harry had a way of deliberately being overlooked – sometimes – but this was ridiculous.

"No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously," Dean said with a flirty grin, portraying the charming good guy, and Jess understood why he was the way he was. It was protection, of a sort.

"So, how come I didn't get an invitation to the wedding?" Dean asked more cautiously, looking to his little brother. Harry, Jess knew, didn't like being ignored and Dean was carefully stepping around Harry as if he wasn't in the room. Harry wouldn't like it.

"It was private. Both Jess and I are orphans, and Sam assumed he was disinherited from his family," Harry spoke then, soft and sure. He meant to rile Dean, to shake him. Jess was suddenly tense at his side. Sam had never said that he was disinherited, only said something big had put him at odds with his big brother – and father.

There had never been a ceremony, not one like Jess had implied, but for a witch or wizard – one of their kind – their rings would be proof enough of their bond. It wouldn't matter that Sam hadn't a drop of magic in him. The ring was magic, and it reacted to him – them. It was proof enough. Dean stepped closer to him, and Harry… Harry let go of Jess' hand.

"That ring, it's a trinity knot?" There was a curious double meaning to Dean's words, edged and sharp and maybe a little more dangerous than he should be when meeting his brothers lovers – wife – husband? And maybe that was it, but it was not all of it and Harry grasped _that_ quickly enough. Letting himself be cornered – because Harry could stand his own and didn't want Jess or Sam in danger – Jess realized it too late, where this was going. Only certain _kinds_ of people wore _these_ rings, the intricate knotting as binding. The sort of people Dean _hunted_.

Jess watched, wide eyed, but she didn't move away from Sam who was standing at her back confused and narrow eyed. It would have only taken a word from either brother to boil things over, or simmer them down. Sam didn't say anything, because he _d_ _id_ _n't_ know. They kept him in the dark for too long, and he didn't want to – maybe – know that they had kept something so big from him.

"Yes," Harry answered, finally, sure of his answer and all it means. There was something challenging in him even if he shouldn't have been, yet it seemed as if he couldn't help himself.

"Dean...what are you doing, Dean?" Sam asked, confusion and tenseness urging him on to speaking, frowning and confused at why Dean was cornering Harry when he had seemed accepting of it – Jess, and Harry - before Harry had spoken.

There was something here he wasn't seeing, he was in the dark to why Dean was almost at the edge of hunting, and he didn't know why. Only that Jess and Harry weren't supposed to know about the monsters in the dark, but Dean was acting as if they knew – _worse_ , as if they were the monsters stirring.

"You know what _that_ means, Sammy." Dean didn't ask when he gestured to the rings, and Sam inhaled in surprise. It had been a curiosity, true, but when Sam lingered to think on how and why Harry had chosen his rings; Sam had only thought that Harry had gotten the idea for the rings by his curiosity in early, primitive, culture. He'd gone along with it, hadn't thought it fully through.

Jess and Harry hadn't actively hid what they were, Sam just hadn't seen it. Or hadn't wanted to. Not till now, with Dean breathing down Harry's neck and Harry not saying anything. But not like he didn't _know_ what's going on. No, it was like he was accepting it, bowing down to the consequences and watching Dean with an expression Sam had never seen on him before.

"Who are you?" Dean growled those words, his threat very real, fury radiating off him, as if he loathed Harry for Sam not knowing, not suspecting that he'd run from his family and into the arms of the monsters.

"Harry James Potter, born wizard, pure-blood, they say where I'm from. Rest of it, my name – I suspect – you wouldn't understand. It's long, you know." Jess suspected it, and Harry looked to her for forgiveness for never saying it, for avoiding who and what he really was even if they knew the secret to magic, and hiding it from Sam.

Jess thought it would go three ways, this betrayal of secrets – Sam had never said he was a hunter, though Jess had known it. Harry had never admitted to being who he was, and Jess had never said anything about what magic she could do – even now, she isn't suspect – yet. Harry telling them this much, as Harry well knew, was a risk. Hunters might be ordinarily humans, but that didn't mean they were without "ears" into the magical community when they had need of it. And his name, Harry Potter, was a big deal both overseas and on American soil. All they would have to do was ask around, and ripples would become a tsunami.

"That so?" Dean breathed the words out, still furious, but amused now. He thought that hard part was over – identifying the 'monster' – but this wasn't a hunt. It never was one, Dean knew that. Sam stood there, breathing while Harry admitted what he was – who he was – and Sam knew it too, now. Jess' fingers clench into a fist, she wouldn't let Harry fall alone.

"Oh, yes," Harry said it, as if Dean wasn't mocking him, as if it is the truth of the matter. Sad part of it is, it probably wass the truth, because Jess _d_ _id_ _n't_ even know Harry's name and titles and honors for what they were or _really_ mean. She only knew Harry. It was enough, for now. It had to be.

"Harry…?" Sam asked, as if he wasn't sure of what he was being faced with; wasn't sure of where they stood now. It twisted something in Jess to do this, to say what needed saying - but if she _doesn't_ , she'll break for fear of it.

"Wait, stop – me too, Sam, I - you ought to know, Sam, I'm a witch. I _suspected_ it, about Harry, when we first met, but he didn't know about me until after we moved in here, _he didn't know,_ Sam, can you imagine what it's like for a pure-blood, like him, to keep it a secret? I'm just a witch, normal parents, a freak – but Harry, Harry was _born into it_ , our world, he left it behind, Sam, it's a burden - that's why we never said anything – but Sam, we were _going to tell_ you, about it – about everything, on…on your birthday." Jess voice breaks, and she just can't say anything more, because they are looking at her and Sam for all he stands at her side, looks miles away. Jess feels wetness under her nails, and thinks it might be blood. Or nervous sweat.

"Jess..." Sam takes a breath, shaky and uncertain, like he's standing on ground he isn't sure is stable.

"We knew you are a hunter, Sam." Harry says it, soft and wary; and Dean eases off, as if he might understand now why Jess and Harry kept _what_ they were in the dark, but not _who_ they were – there is a difference there, and both brothers know it. Dean looks between the three of them with something like pity, but shakes his head and stands down. He knew now that this was personal, but it wasn't treachery, wasn't a plot to spring on his brother and kill them both (because Dean wouldn't let anything kill Sam before it went through him, first).

"Then, if you knew all along, why…why take the risk of getting close?" Sam watched Harry for his answer, because Jess was too close and he'd known her for too long to not be hurt, but he wanted to know why. Harry was the only one that didn't evade giving over their answers. If it was asked directly of him, Harry would have answered, it was the sort of person he was. Jess was the one to hide it, to urge him to silence when he would have told. She hadn't been ready, and now it was too late to be anything like _ready_.

Harry laughed, and it was barking and dark – brittle. As if Harry was broken, knowing this, and was only waiting to be thrown away. Jess flinched even as she took a step toward him unable to help herself.

"Do you think I _meant_ to, Sam? Fall in love? I didn't mean to fall in love, Sam. I didn't mean to find you, or Jess, but I have –haven't I? And I'll _never_ regret that, Sam. Never." Jess saw it then, what Harry hadn't told her. That their world – his world – would come hunting for him because he was still leashed to it. It was only a matter of time. She hadn't understood it, because Jess had only recieved a magical education so she knew who and what she was. She never went any deeper into the abyss of magic, but Harry had; Harry hadn't had a choice in it. It was real to him in a way it wasn't real to her.

"What happens now?" Sam asked, and he sounded so lost and alone that it hurts.

"You need to think about this, really think about what your getting into, Sam," Harry breathed the words out, steady and sure, as if he knew his words for facts and he was just waiting for everyone else to catch up. But he looking up at Sam through the fall of his too long hair, and there was uncertainty there. "If you really want this – _us_ , because we want you, Sam – be sure of that much, because what we _are_ isn't just going away … and neither are we."

"He's right," Jess choked out. Harry had always been better at words when he chose to use them, and it seemed that was all she _c_ _ould_ say.

"Couldn't agree more, little witch," Dean put in, because he could, and he was still edgy, still ready to jump in and protect Sam at the slightest sign of things going south. Despite that, he knew where things stood, and he wasn't putting Jess down for what she was; what she couldn't help being.

"Dean," Sam bit his brother's name out, snapping, because as much as he _kn_ _e_ _w_ that Dean cared, there were some things that Dean should know to stay out of (even if he didn't and never would). Even worse was that Dean knew what Harry and Jess were within meeting them (even if the rings were a big clue), while Sam had blinded himself to it (taken it in stride to be oddities of their personality, something he never wanted to question, as this was, after all, supposed to be the "normal college life"). Granted that Dean knew he had more to loose, it would have been Dean's little brother at risk (that, for Dean, wasn't an option), rather then Sam's own life (which he'd never held at much value, but was learning to, if slowly, realize).

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked, this time it weighed in his words, as if he was just considering Dean's motives for throwing his "normal" life (even if it just turned out not be so mundane, after all) in disarray.

"Well, wizards and witches aside, Sammy," Dean turned to look at Harry and Jess, nodding to them as if they just might be people, or he was pretending for Sam, so when they turn out to be monsters, Dean could kill them without any guilty conscious. "I got to borrow your boyfriend for a minute, talk about some private family business, but, ah, nice meeting you," Dean gave them a grin that was easy and charming, but meant nothing.

"No, whatever you wanna say, you can say it in front of them," Sam sounded sure of this much. He wanted no more secrets between them, not if he could help it. Dean could understand that (a little, maybe) so the smile stretched strained and uneasy.

"Okay. Ah, dad hasn't been home in a few days." Even though the "monsters" knew about them being hunters, Dean couldn't help but try to _pretend_ he wasn't talking about something normal, – like hiking about in circles in the woods, rifle over shoulder and eyes on the tracks in the dirt – but it was closer to saying what they did than anything else he could think of.

"So he's working overtime on a militiamen shift, he'll stumble back in sooner or later," Sam flung it off, remembering how much it had hurt when he walked out the door after the fight with his father. A fight that Dean hadn't taken his side on, hadn't taken any side at all. Sam was still bitter about that, and it showed.

"Dad's on a hunting trip…and he hasn't been home in a few days." It seemed to sink in then for Sam, what it meant for to Dean come all this way (for dad) if not to put his life into shambles, but to ask – beg – Sam for his help. This, Sam knew, was something he couldn't turn away from without cutting the last ties he clung to with Dean. He couldn't do it. It showed on his face.

"We can help," Jess said it in rush, because she could. Maybe a little bit because it _needed_ to be said –and it had to be known – from the start of this. Whatever _this_ may become, Sam and Dean both, need to know, they weren't alone, that Jess and Harry weren't just colorful stand-ins for the background, to be ignored. It's no use pretending they _weren't_ what they were; but showing that it had uses beyond hurting innocents… that, she knew, they _could_ do.

They had to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have my apologies for the somewhat abandonment of this story, I'm fairly certain the next chapter of the story will start with ouija board, and crystals hanging over maps of America. Maybe.
> 
> Now, for Jess' death, thought I'd warn you – I'll cry after and likely during that bit of writing – which I've never really done, as I've always tried for "happy endings" – and though this is a beginning, it is also a ending...-sniffles- I've really come to love writing Jess, though it seems silly, as I began to write her so that her death would show to have a impact – it would mean something, if only so I could prove that to myself.
> 
> I mean, logically - I know Sam cared for her, but "Supernatural" never went into details about her – never made her real, not in the way they usually do about those that surround the Winchester boys – they never showed why Sam gave a damn about her. I wanted to know why. So, I wrote this bit of a beginning to tell why it should have mattered. This is, after all, only a beginning. It just took me a while to write it and say goodbye to the safe little world I'd built to nurture "my" beginning for the boys…the ending to this beginning has begun, now that I've finished it – well, now things will go the way they usually do….which is to say, enjoy the writing it'll go on…
> 
> If that is any sort of consolation for waiting so long.


	8. Following In Father's Footprints

"We can help." Jess says it in rush, because she can. Maybe a little bit because it _needs_ to be said - and it has to be known - from the start of this. Whatever _this_ may become, Sam and Dean both, need to know, they aren't alone, that Jess and Harry aren't just colorful stand-ins for the background, to be ignored. It's no use pretending they _aren't_ what they are; but showing that it has uses beyond hurting innocents – that, she knows, they _can_ do.

They have to try.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"How's that…?" Dean asks, sarcastic, yes, but still more then a bit curious –yet, at least - willing to listen. Sam looks at Jess as if he doesn't know her. She takes a breath that isn't a sigh and looks to Harry for…for _something_. She doesn't know if its reassurance, or strength, but it is something, and Harry only smiles, giving her what she needs with the look. The faith in him, the loyalty, it aches and is all most too much – but there – and Jess can't help but be thankful for Harry. Without him, Jess knows she would never do what she's about to.

"Trust me?" Jess asks, looking eye to eye with Sam. He nods, and does not hesitate in doing so. Jess does not sigh in her relief, but she does breathe easier. Jess slowly takes stretches out her hand, and calls her wand to her without a word. _If you want it enough_ , she knows, _if you have enough magic, you do not need words_ ; only desire and the intent to have it granted.

Her wand, all thirteen inches of sturdy rowan – at its core a myrrh egg, is warm in her hand.

Jess shifts just a little nervously as her words – and more importantly through the proof of her actions, magic, draws their attention upon her. She isn't sure if it was such a wise choice, to remind them so plainly of what she – and Harry – are, and can not help in being. Magic; it runs through them like blood. There isn't any help in it, they could try to hold it in, pretend it isn't there. But if something would scratch them emotionally, they'd bleed out magic uncontrolled. It was dangerous, far more dangerous, to ignore the magic in them then to use it. How they used it, the brothers would just have to learn to trust, was a personal choice, not a predicted unknown quirk of magic that corrupted a soul to some inner evil nature. There were joys in magic, too, and they'd have to learn that. Have to be taught that.

"Right…" Dean is wary and careful, but he watches her and doesn't flinch. Jess is grateful, for it is progress of a sort. Harry though, said nothing of her display, only watching blank-faced.

Jess knows – because how can she not - that Harry liked watching her work magic, he didn't like using it – as if, for him it was all reaction and action, defensive and offensive, attack and defend the wild and heedless joy of it had drained away with war magic training.

She breathes the words under her breath, unheard, but the reaction to those words is very real. Her eye roll up in her head, the whites twitching as her words send images flashing into her brain, pictures and places – a journal, with symbols and meanings she can guess – fleetingly, road signs and tar and yellow trails. Like this she's _vulnerable_ , she doesn't know what's happening to her body, and has to trust Harry to take care of her. She can't think of even that, but keeps searching though the images that her words have invoked. This is an induced vision, and she's controlling what she sees – barely.

Then, a real look at John Winchester in the mirror, he's shaving and a drop of blood falls in the sink. His voice is like gravel as he curses, but she does not make sense of the words, because…because _behind him_ is a shadow, and it moves and it's eyes are the same lawful warning yellow that divides road tar.

 _"Demon"_ , she mouths the word but dares not say it aloud, to give Harry warning of what she sees – and only hope it's enough. Her warning has a reaction, as she knows it would - through that mirror those yellow eyes focus on her.

" _I see you, little witch_." Thin lips sneer, darkness like sand twisting away from John Winchester in the mirror. Jess knows she's saved Sam's dads life, but will she ever get the chance to tell _Sam_ that?

 _'Hurry, hurry, hurry, he sees me!'_ She struggles with words, remembering them like drops of rain beginning to fall, too slow to be the flood of information she needs, the words will come – but will it be _too late_? She fears the rain will fall too late. And she's so very cold, as cold as those yellow eyes watching her. Words are flooding into her brain, yet her throat and tongue feels too slow to choke them all out in time, before, before it's too late.

 _'Following me_ …!' she realizes it too late and dread chokes her. Magical folk, witches and wizards alike, aren't meant to be _alone_ when facing demons. And she is, so very, very alone, and more _vulnerable_ then she ever imagined, here, without body and wand. She realizes with a sickening jolt what she's unthinkingly doing, falling into a trap; the demon has already seen her, knows who she is (or he will shortly, it's too late to hope for else) but…but it doesn't know _where_ she is.

She _can't_ go back, because he's _following_ her, and she'll lead this demon right to…

 _"Harry_." She sobs his name aloud, with her own lips and voice and knows the demon can hear _his name._ It's her good-bye, his name. She knows Harry will understand and when she's gone, and her body isn't hers – it's his, the yellow eyed demons - he'll explain to Sam. Triumph lights gleaming gold eyes, sensing her weakness, knowing a name and of her defeat. She feels like she's falling, and the demon is trying to catch her before she 'hits' her body. He'll take it, and she'll….she will be _alone_.

Lost….

' _No, no, no_!' She panics, even as she knows there isn't any other outcome to this race for her body. There is only so much magical words can do, without a sense of physical reality to measure that magical strength. There is a touch at her shoulder; _she feels it_ , even as she knows she should not – it's reassuringly warm and real as the physical world she'd left behind. It's pulling her faster to her body, helping her.

' _Harry_ …' she knows and trusts with relief enough to close her eyes but…but she does not, must not.

The hand becomes more real, somehow solid, as if she's calling Harry to stand beside her. She feels a wash of triumph, and then dark lips twist at her, smirking. Icy gold eyes are watching her measuring, _seeking_. She realizes that it isn't her that's calling Harry here; it's…him, _the demon_.

"Harry!" She calls out a warning, and she looks over her shoulder, terrified of what she'll see. What she should not, and _does_.

 _Harry_.

Her heart lurches in fear for him, even as he glares down the yellow eyed demon. Harry somehow uses his touch on her as leverage, moving past her, in front of her. He puts himself between them, the demon and his Jess. She didn't know she was crying until she blinks away tears.

"Wizard, step aside. The girl is mine, she trespasses." The demon asks, and there is something – _polite_ \- in his asking. Green eyes focus only on the demon, even as Jess grabs the hand that –almost – slips from her shoulder with a gentle push behind, she grips that hand, her life-link and his, and holds on tight as she can. She will not let him go; she won't face Sam after leaving Harry behind to face, to face _this thing_ for her.

She's stronger then that. She knows she is, even if that sense of strength is because Harry stands now – _in danger because of her_ \- with her.

"I won't let you have her." Jess sees the hand she grips has the ring – _their ring_ – and the hand she griped Harry's with, unconsciously, is wearing the same ring. The yellow eyed demon's gaze is locked upon those rings, comprehending.

"Ah, a prior claim, Wizard? My mistake…." Those lips are sneering, but the face is carefully void of expression. Jess isn't stupid; she hears how the demon is addressing Harry, _her Harry_ , as if Harry is the only wizard as it understands the world, or cares to know of, enough that Harry being here draw it's attention like a magnet, the Wizard.

"Yes. You're name is Azazel, is it not?" Harry asks matter of fact, and all she can think is, _'Merlin, the War? What happened to you in the War, Harry?_ ' The yellow eyed demon, Azazel, merely nods as if it's a fact, but a smile plays over those lips, pleased.

She feels then, the tug in her navel, as if an unseen umbilical cord ties her to her body.

"We'll meet again, Wizard." Azazel promises, as if knowing it's time is up.

"Jess…" Harry is touching her shoulder, keen green eyes peer at her, as if checking inside her brain for any stray passenger, and maybe he is – maybe he has that power –she's never asked; never known because she didn't want to know.

"So what'd you see?" Dean drawls, and she can tell he doubts, but the insolence in him masks something else. She takes a quick breath and it stutters out in a question.

"Do you know of a Yellow Eyed Demon?" Sam looks as if she struck him in the gut, and Dean is closed and guarded. She's glad they are taking her question seriously, that after all they know something about what they are hunting. With demons though, you'll _never_ know enough to save everyone. Not _everyone_ wants to be saved.

"And _how_ ," Dean asks real soft his last word a hiss, "would you know about _him_?" Jess can see the tension in him building, he's struggling not to act, to give her the benefit of the doubt long enough to answer. She thanks him for the effort, silently.

"I saw him, saw you're dad too. He's alright, by the way, cut him self shaving a few minutes ago. The demon, you aren't supposed to be seen in what I just did, but I was seen by… _him_." It's enough of an emphasis that they know Jess means Yellow Eyes, and she hates that she's using descriptions like titles in her head and aloud.

Jess glances to Harry to judge his reaction, and finds him suppressed, subdued. They are going to have to talk, later. It'll probably be a long ' _talk'_.

"How did you get away?" Sam asks, worried for her and wide eyed. She'll keep her mouth shut, she decides while still looking to Harry, about what Yellow Eyes had done - shouldn't have been able to do - in summoning Harry to him, by using Jess. She'll ask Harry what that demon might have wanted with him, later, when they _talk_.

"How do you think?" Jess tilts her head in inquiry, turning to face both the brothers, and not pausing long enough for Sam or Dean to find an answer they've thought about, she wiggles her fingers comically, as if flinging sparks from them.

"Magic…" She whispers, Sam laughs at the absurdity, and the tension eases enough for Dean to crack a half smile.

"Now, go get me a map, I have an idea." She'll use what she's seen to pinpoint John Winchester, she makes a shooing gesture and Sam and Dean take the opportunity to escape.

They, she thinks, have a lot of things to _talk_ about too. She turns to Harry, who produces a crystal to act as a focus wordlessly, she smiles as she takes it. She isn't _mad_ at him, how could she be when he saved her life (from a demon, impossible feat, she would have said years ago), but now all the questions stir in her gut, overturned and shaken, and she's found her voice.

"How much will you tell me, Harry?" Jess asks, instead. Green eyes measure her, for the first time, the question in them is " _How much do you want to know_?" there is no limit to what Harry will answer, if Jess can ask the right sort of questions.

She swallows it down, the thrill _that_ knowledge gives her, the access to power within her reach. Her magic recognizes the offer for what it is, and magic is ruthless. Its power she _does not_ want over Harry. Yet she has it, has had it all along, and never knew.

"…. _Fall in love? I didn't mean to fall in love, Sam, I didn't mean to find you, or Jess, but I have –haven't I?"_

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

"We must act, Jaz'…" A plea aloud from the buzzing minds, hive minded witches. She can hear all of them, and each one is as selfish as the next. They take pride in their magic, and as connected as they are to one another, it is not a surprise - they are prefect.

" _Hunters_ , they dare mingle with hunters!" A disgusted hiss from lush lips trailed then into silence. Long they had watched their sister-witch and her not-magical lover, and the truth, now revealed, stirred them to outrage. Hunters, after all, were the enemy. The unknown wizard had made it impossible to act except in subtle, mostly ignored, warnings.

There had been, the hive-minded witches felt, warnings enough.

"I heard from _her_ mind, a demon's name – Azazel." Sharon – or 'Shari'- the once roommate of Jessica Lee Moore told them. Shari had such access, for she had stolen it from their room, disguising what would otherwise have been noticed by a witch for a break in. It was how they had known Jess was looking for a hunter, the father of those two hunters, in fact.

"I propose a deal with this Azazel; if we offer her to him, they wouldn't know, and suspicions would turn them against each other." Careless to say so aloud, but Jaz' said not a word, her eyes closed as if in mockery of 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil', but at _those words_ , of a deal, as she knew it would eventually lead to - she smiled.

"Shall we offer to deal with _demons_?" It was an outraged protest, but too late.

"I accept your deal." Eyes a mass of seething gold, opened.

There was no sound, as Azazel used the hive-minded bond to swallow their minds and souls down, lapping up their magic – he could hold _that_ in only for a little while without harming himself. It would be enough time.

Azazel stood, and swayed in feminine walk, leaving dead fools behind.


	9. Demons Summoned To Shear

"That demon, Harry… _you_ _knew its name_. What am I supposed to think?" Jess felt the strain in her voice, the accusation. All she knew, when it came down to it, was Harry Potter – _her Harry_ – was a hero to their people. She didn't know how, she'd never dared ask, she'd known him on sight – but she'd been a coward, letting him find out for himself –the hard way - that she was a witch, not admitting it beforehand.

She'd always known what Harry was, there was no doubting it. It was like his magic bubbled up own of him like a fountain threatening to overspill, that _sense_ of his power had never frightened her before, as he she also sensed how tightly he reigned himself in, impossibly controlling what seemed a force of nature within himself.

"I'm not _Dark_ , Jess." He spat the third word, as if he'd been accused before – many times. Likely, by people with less reasons to suspect –or proof- then her. She flinched at those words, that told her – for her suspicions, she was no better then any of the _others_. Others who, she suspected, he'd come here to get away from, not _run_ , just…walked away. That was worse for his opinion of them, because it meant he just hadn't cared what they thought.

"It was the War; where else would I start my whole life starts with that damned War, don't see why it didn't end with it…. It wasn't just me, though, researching demon names, because only with a demon's name can you banish it – or control it, and _somehow_ – Tom had opened a Hell's Gate. They made Deals, Jess." She knows she's hearing this from his side, and it's maybe the first time he's opened up about it since the war; he's probably never told his version, before. The people who should have asked had already had opinions, had lived the War with him.

"Why…why did that demon call _you,_ Wizard?" As if it was a title, a _trade_ , no matter that to her it was the male word for a witch. To the demon, it had meant something else – she wondered what, and if Harry had an idea.

It was obvious from his pressed lips that he did, but she wouldn't push him for an answer. He would answer her on his own, or not at all – she vowed silently not to push for more then he was willing to give up. These truths were like glittering shards of untold secrets, a beautiful show of trust, but it hurt Harry to tell her – to remember.

"I…I _broke_ the Deals that were made, a Demon's Deal …it's a lot like a Wizard's Oath." Harry tried to smile, but his lips twisted down, unsure as he watched her.

 _Impossible_ , the thought jumped through her head, screaming defiance.

"How…?" Her breath caught, pained even as she asked. There was only one way to break a Wizard's Oath – death.

"How else do you think? I killed the demons – and only when I _couldn't_ ; the Dark wizards and witches." He didn't sound proud of it, as if she should be impressed – he sounded…dead, _hurting_.

She leaned forward, so her forehead touched his, reassuring, trusting. His eyes close as he breathes in deeply, as if to remember this moment forever. Jess closes her own eyes, sharing the silence between them, the offer of trust and calm.

It's shattered, literally, with the sound of glass and heavy bodies hitting the floors.

"Isn't this _touching_?" It's a voice both sarcastic and familiar – and _female_.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Sam feels as if he's being herded out of his own house by his brother, he begrudges it – but says nothing. Its obvious Jess and Harry have something to talk about without him, and yes – that _hurts_. How can it not? But they've obviously been… _talking…._ behind his back for a while. He comforts himself with the thought that they were _going_ to let him know – on his birthday – the hurt doesn't feel any better with the cool black metal of the Impala under him.

Dean opens the diver's door and gets in, searching the glove box. Sam hopes he's not serious, that he doesn't keep the maps out of sight while driving, Dean's never gotten lost that Sam knows about (and he'd hear about it if Dean ever confessed to being lost to Dad, so Dean _wouldn't_ say anything, even if he was, or had been) – but _still_.

"They're….nice." Dean says, grudgingly, and Sam can tell he's trying. He still closes his eyes, running a hand though his bed messy hair. It's not like it matters much now, he hasn't had a chance to run a comb though it – or Jess's brush.

"Yeah, Dean – nice, can we _not_ do this now?" He hisses it though his teeth. Normally he'd be all for _Dean_ opening up, so it isn't exactly fair that he's shutting Dean out when it's his turn. He thinks he might understand how Dean feels about it, with this turn around.

"Sam, listen to me, will you? I know you don't want to hear this, but…" Dean starts, but Sam his heart clenching in fear of what he'll hear – what Dean can only confirm of what Sam already suspects, interrupts.

"Dean, don't – I found a good thing here, why can't you be happy for me?" He'd be happy for Dean, he knows. Not so much, though, if Dean was sleeping with….Sam doesn't finish the thought, and in the pause, Dean speaks up as if he can't help it.

"I _want to_ Sammy, but they are _witches_ – or witch and wizard, whatever - sooner or later it'll come to black magic, it always does." Dean isn't enjoying this any more then Sam is, but Sam feels anger clench in his gut even as his heart is aching. He wants to say, _but you don't know them like I do_! But did Sam ever really know them, if they never trusted him with the truth of what they were? He wants Dean to _give them_ the benefit of the doubt, a chance, and appealing to Dean's better nature – getting him to throw down his instincts, just this once, just for Harry and Jess – it's almost impossible. Dean was raised a warrior, to _protect_ Sam – and Sam has known it all his life. So he says what he can in their defense, the truth as only Sam can see it and believe it.

"They were _born_ with that magic, Dean." Sam hopes that Dean hears the truth of what he believes in his words, and for a long pause he thinks he might have succeeded.

"Exactly my point, Sammy, they can _pretend_ to be normal humans with going to collage and having normal lives, but _they aren't human._ " Dean stresses those words, it twists something in Sam to hear it, but those words settle over them, seeping into skin and bone with the silence between them that follows. It's a truth that Sam can't deny, and won't. Yet it doesn't touch on what he _feels;_ that he loves Harry and Jess, despite or because of that difference. He's about to say that, when overhead the lights on the street flicker, and Dean curses because the inside of the Impala is dark as night when it was illuminated only a minute ago.

A tension, something like the familiar thrum of his blood when they hunt, fills up the night making it hard to breath.

"Neither am I…" She purrs the words out of the dark as she sways forward, smiling white teeth and amber whirling eyes. She looks to each of them, then to the house behind, and Sam knows that _this_ is the demon that took his mother before he could remember her. Then she flicks her wand up in a motion so familiar that he thinks _Jess?_ –then realizes that _that_ is a witch's gesture. They're dealing with a demon-possessed witch.

"Let's go visit the wicked witch and her wizard…" Sam finds his feet off the ground and it jolts though his body that he's going to fall, even as he's being _thrown_ through the closed windows of his own home. He tries to brace himself, but as he hits the floor he keeps going, impossibly, until he's got rug burn and he's shoved against the wall, immobile.

Dean is bloody, but pinned beside him blinking blood out of his eyes. Sam finds himself grateful for small favors.

"Isn't this _touching_?" Sam doesn't blink, but he swears that something like light flickers as the demon is careful to go through the window without touching the frame. Harry is standing beside Jess, very close, and the demon must have seen something happening between them while Sam was being flung through the room.

"Sam!" Jess shouts, wide eyed and panicked, her eyes on both Dean and Sam. It's Harry that has eyes only for the grinning demon, his wand out – and Sam never thought before of how threatening a stick could look, wielded so confidently.

"The thing about _blood wards_ , Wizard? They don't work against the _blood_ of the ones you're trying to protect, and – well – things can just slip in after the cracks." The demon mocks, making that small wrist gesture and a burst of red light springs from its finger tips, Harry breaths a word, and the red bursts upon a shimmering purple dome as if it's a paint-ball fight. Harry is defending them, and there is something reckless in it.

" _Ah, ah, ah_ – careful, you're spreading yourself too thin; didn't the War teach you any better?" Harry hisses between his teeth, as if he's restraining himself. Blue shadows reached from the floor, and something inside the pulsing mass _hissed back_. Harry became pale under his tan.

"Azazel. You have no _business_ here." Harry flung the words out as if they had a weight, or there was an understanding between Azazel and Harry. One thing was sure, this was not the first time Harry had met this demon, if he know _its name_. Sam felt his jealously building, his anger twisting inside him at betrayal after betrayal of what he knew, what he thought he could trust.

"It's certainly nothing _personal_ , Wizard. Yet, _that's_ where you are wrong; the Deal is thus, you may have a claim on her, but she was _offere_ d to me. All I have to do is cause you and the boys to have _suspicions –_ and I think I've already done that, don't you? It's probably not what my host meant, but none of her coven-sisters are around to protest, alas, all died when I took my mind-linked host." The laughing yellow eyed demon made a gesture toward Jess, and she jolted a few feet toward Azazel. Jess shrieked, her wand making clearly frantic stopping gestures, she lurched to a stop mid-air.

Harry hissed a word, and it wasn't English or Latin, but a real serpent-like hiss, as if the serpents had a language; green flame struck out at Azazel. The body was burning, but at the same time nothing was happening as the demon was clucking its tongue, almost in disappointment; mockingly slow, it gathered the green flame in its hand and closed it into a fist, the flames went out.

"You can't kill me while I possess _someone you don't know the name of_ , Wizard." Obviously pleased, it turned it's attention back to Jess, Sam started struggling – he'd been shocked by pain, and a light show of more magic happening right here, in a single night, then most of his life. He'd thought magic needed time to be prepared, obviously not so for those who were born with magic.

Another of those little witch's gestures, and feminine fingers, long and slender, were wrapped around Jess's throat. Harry took a step forward in protest, but the blue pulsing – _hissing_ – cloud struck at Sam and Dean, pinned to the wall. Harry was at the middle ground, Sam realized with gut wrenching fear, between them and the demon – and Jess. Harry couldn't save her, without leaving them to whatever fate the sinister blue smoke would give out – and he wouldn't leave, Sam knew.

"Go!" Sam hollered at him, helpless.

Harry glanced back at Sam, pained green eyes refusing because of them – because of _him_.

Jess was face to face with the demon, her eyes wide and staring into swirling yellow, as if hypnotized. Azazel opened his mouth, and as if somehow forced to mimic him, Jess followed his actions a soft white glow seeping from her lips and into Azazel, he was _feeding_ on her, Sam realized.

Harry wasn't watching this act, as if he knew what was happening, he only looked to Sam, as if Sam was anchoring him somehow. Awareness snapped into Jess's eyes, and she snarled the syllables to a name, as if it were a curse.

" _Jazzlyn Callula Maryweld_." Green flame leapt alive at the words from the demon's hand, and both Jess and the demon's host were consumed in the roaring green, burning with a vengeance. Black smoke spiraled wildly, swiftly upward, escaping as if a funnel of water though the window.

Harry howled in denial – it torment, leaping into the green flame as if he could save Jess.

Sam didn't realize that he'd been yelling himself hoarse and struggling until his skin was sure to be black and blue until Dean was holding him in the aftermath – somehow they were outside Sam's house and Dean was to blame or thank – but Sam couldn't say anything as those he loved were burning up green flame, because there was nothing Dean could do to make this better.

Green flames with licked blue edges suddenly billowed out as if something struggled forth from the flames, and there was a flicker of golden blood ward – unforgettable now that he'd seen a demon cause that same glimmer. Sam tensed up, wondering if Azazel was coming back to finish the job.

A body freed itself from the fire; skin not burnt or blistered for all that the clothes were worthless crisp smelling things that smelt of sulfur. Sam blinked back tears that blurred his eyes, and it was Harry he saw, unspeaking as he watched their world burn. _Alive_ , Sam couldn't help but be glad, and hoped for more – for Jess - in that moment.

On Harry's hand two gold Celtic knot rings gleamed.


End file.
